


Desperation

by KittieHill



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Orgasm, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Awkward Conversations, Begging, Boys Kissing, Candles, Captain John Watson, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Condoms, Declarations Of Love, Dirty Talk, Dry Orgasm, Edging, Facials, First Orgasm, First Time, Hand Jobs, Intense Orgasm, Intense Orgasms, Lots of Edging, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Military Uniforms, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Romantic Sherlock, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Spanking, Talking, Texting, Toys, Under Desk Blowys, Vibrators, Virgin Sherlock, Voyeurism, Workplace Sex, fleshlight, little bit of dom/sub, responsive sherlock, reupload, sex injury, silk scarves, tied-up, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you mean you've never had an orgasm?" John asked incredulously, his eyes widening as much as his mouth.</p><p>Sherlock continued his experiment without looking up. "I don't understand why we're still talking about this."</p><p>"Because it's important? Because it's fucking unbelievable! And mostly because I thought it would be impossible," John replied, staring at the younger man.</p><p>Sherlock sighed as he pulled off his goggles and ruffled long fingers through his hair, his icy blue eyes meeting John's darker ones. "I just never had the urge. My body is just transport and has a way of dealing with it without… stimulus."</p><p>John looked more confused than ever before his brain caught up. "You mean wet dreams?"</p><p>Sherlock winced slightly, causing John to blush at his choice of words. "If you must use such childish words, then yes. I prefer the term 'emission'."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My wonderful beta [Sherlock Holmes Consulting Vampire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockholmesconsultingvampire/) offered to go through my Desperation work. I immediately jumped at the chance so here we are! 
> 
> It's pure smut in every chapter. Please enjoy!

"What do you mean you've never had an orgasm?" John asked incredulously, his eyes widening as much as his mouth.

Sherlock continued his experiment without looking up. "I don't understand why we're still talking about this."

"Because it's important? Because it's fucking unbelievable! And mostly because I thought it would be impossible," John replied, staring at the younger man.

Sherlock sighed as he pulled off his goggles and ruffled long fingers through his hair, his icy blue eyes meeting John's darker ones. "I just never had the urge. My body is just transport and has a way of dealing with it without… stimulus."

John looked more confused than ever before his brain caught up. "You mean wet dreams?"

Sherlock winced slightly, causing John to blush at his choice of words. "If you must use such childish words, then yes. I prefer the term 'emission'."

John looked at the tiles on the floor, unable to meet Sherlock's gaze until the younger man stood to his full height and left the kitchen. He lay on his side on the sofa with his knees bent up, a slight petulant pout on his lips.

An hour later Sherlock was still in the same position; his mind and body had finally relaxed enough to get rid of the pesky erection which had happened during his and John's discussion. He listened carefully to John's breathing and deduced that the doctor was sitting in his chair, pretending to read the book which he had been reading for the last five weeks but getting no further than the third chapter. Sherlock spoke quietly, his voice deep and soft as he asked John for tea which made John jump at the unexpected noise before he hoisted himself up to put the kettle on. Sherlock moved from the sofa to his own chair opposite John's, waiting for the man to come back so they could finish the conversation which John had been waiting (and planning) for in his mind all day.

John returned with tea and biscuits, placing both at arm's reach for Sherlock before sitting back down and crossing his legs. He lifted the book back to his face and continued his charade of reading.

"John," Sherlock started nervously, clearing his throat and taking a sip of the hot sweet tea. "Why are you so interested?"

John sighed, he didn't want to admit how interested in the topic he was, but it was all he could think about since Sherlock had admitted his lack of sexual stimulation earlier in the day. He wasn't sure _why_ he was so interested… he just was.

"It's just not healthy, and as a doctor, I think I should remedy anything unhealthy that you do… I make you eat, I make you sleep, I stitch you up after a crime…" John chattered.

"Are you ordering me to wank? Is that it, John? Five years of medical school to tell me to touch myself?" Sherlock said with a cheeky grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief at John's discomfort.

John choked on his tea slightly, a pink blush running over his cheeks which made Sherlock suddenly aware of the signs: _flushed cheeks, blown pupils, deeper breathing, I bet his heart is racing too_. John was aroused.

Sherlock watched enraptured as John's tongue skimmed his bottom lip, attempting to wet the dry and cracked skin as he thought of a reply.

"Well… I wouldn't put it like that, Sherlock," he coughed. "I just think it's not good for your prostate, your body. It's a great stress relief and the chemicals it releases could be a good thing."

Sherlock played along; to gather more data he told himself. Purely scientific research.

"I just… Well, I shared a room with Mycroft at my parents and we didn't really get a lot of time alone. Then I went to Oxford so I wasn't alone much there either and eventually, I just became too busy. It wasn't something I needed to do so I didn't," Sherlock shrugged.

"You still have erections though, right?" John asked quizzically, attempting his most calm doctor voice.

"Of course I do, I'm not a robot, John," Sherlock snapped. "I just ignore it and it goes away. Then often it happens when I sleep and I just clean up and get on with other more important things."

John shook his head, aware of the closeness between them, barely any space between their knees as they sat in their chairs looking at one another. Sherlock's fingers steepled under his chin as he looked at John's face with a worried look etched on his features.

"Do you think I'm a freak, John?" Sherlock asked softly, unable to meet John's gaze.

"I've always thought you were a freak, Sherlock," John smiled, "but I suppose it explains a lot."

Sherlock gave John a playful glare before reaching for his violin and bow, holding it up to his chin as he played a simple tune.

"I don't think I know how" Sherlock added absentmindedly. "I've never tried."

John's mouth went dry and his stomach flipped as he imagined Sherlock lying on the bed, having his first ever orgasm at John's hands. His brain exploded with warning signs that his mouth was about to say something but it was too late… the words had already left.

"I could help, I mean… I know how to do it, I'm experienced I mean… and a doctor..." John spluttered, his face red.

Sherlock looked over at his friend with a smile, cricking his eyebrow as he observed the normally reserved Dr Watson who was now blushing like a maid, his hand covering his mouth in case it spoke more treacherous words.

"Yes… Yes, I suppose you could. If your masturbation habits are anything to go by, I imagine you're an expert," Sherlock smiled, placing his violin back in its case.

"My... How do you know about my masturbation habits?" John asked.

"Oh come on, John, it's so obvious. Every morning you wake up with an erection which you either sate in bed if you're not at work and can spend a little longer enjoying the sensations, or you do it in the shower before work where it takes approximately thirteen minutes," Sherlock rambled, his eyes shining at his deductions.

"How could you possibly know that?" John asked angrily, his head hanging low in mortified shame.

"It's simple, John. I hear it and smell it once you leave the bathroom. I also know that you often think of the little redhead girl from the chip shop, she's often on top of you, jiggling or whatever it is that people do. You wonder about her pubic hair and how she styles it and what type of knickers she wears on a regular basis," Sherlock continued.

John stammered and looked at his flatmate with his usual bewilderment. He hadn't even mentioned the redhead in passing so he had no idea how Sherlock knew about her.

"She wears plain cotton ones, usually white, occasionally she treats herself to a black pair on a Friday if she knows a certain colleague is working. Black knickers means she wants to have sex," Sherlock chattered idly.

John shook his head and laughed, deep and throaty as he looked up at Sherlock. "Amazing. As always."

Sherlock felt a spark of excitement travel up his spine at John's praise. He always loved it when the older man praised him or spoke kindly of his deductions; it was so different to hearing the same angry remarks from others.

"So, John. It would appear I have an erection. What should I do now?" Sherlock asked innocently, acting slightly more virgin-like than strictly warranted.

John put down his tea as he choked a second time, his eyes lingering on Sherlock's prominent bulge in the well-cut fabric of his stylish trousers. He had no idea why he'd volunteered ( _except the fact that you're obsessed with Sherlock and sexually infatuated with him)_ to help but he shook the thoughts away and tried to control his shaky voice as he told Sherlock to shower and then come to John's bedroom.

Whilst Sherlock showered, John began getting his bedroom in order. He laid a few dark towels over his sheet and pulled away the duvet to rest on the floor beside the bed. He opened his top drawer and ruffled through his socks and undies until he reached the bottom where he kept his condoms, lube and a small selection of sex toys. He took the lube out and left it close by on the floor, away from Sherlock's eyes but close enough to grasp when needed. His hands shook as he realised the enormity of the situation he was in; he was going to touch Sherlock, and finally, he could caress the younger man and bring him to the edge for the first time. His own cock reacted to the stimulus and he reached down to tug it slightly through the fabric of his jeans, deciding to change into his pyjama bottoms for more comfort. He heard the shower turn off and a thud as Sherlock stepped out of the tub before Sherlock's steps walked to his bedroom door, and the younger man stood in the doorway looking more beautiful than John had ever seen him.

His hair was wet and clung to his head, brushed back from his forehead as Sherlock dried his shoulders. John's eyes travelled down the long, lean expanse of pale skin, looking hungrily at the rust coloured nipples which stood pebbled in the cold air. A line of surprisingly light hair trailed from Sherlock's navel to underneath the white towel which covered his hips, and John looked in awe at the fine dusting of hair which clung to the detective's legs making him look almost feminine.

Sherlock looked at John quizzically, watching as the doctor stared at his pale body with something that looked like hunger and desperation. Sherlock felt his stomach flutter as he memorised the way John's eyes skimmed his body and locked it away in his mind palace under 'John: personal'. Sherlock cleared his throat and looked at John with a smile, watching the older man attempt to hide his arousal and shame before telling Sherlock to get onto the bed. Sherlock did as he was told, lying still covered in the towel on John's bed.

"I have no idea where to start… I've never… with another man before," John admitted, his fingers nervously smoothing the material of his bottoms.

"Well, how do you normally start when you're alone?" Sherlock asked carefully.

"Normally I'm already hard and thinking about somebody I like, and then I reach for myself and stroke," John said quietly.

"Then let's do that. I'm already rather hard," Sherlock replied.

John took a deep breath, calming himself before nodding and telling Sherlock to take off his towel. Sherlock moved his long fingers to his hip and pulled the fabric aside, showing himself to somebody else for the first time ever. John's breath caught in his chest at the sight of Sherlock; the man was unbelievably beautiful, it was almost as though he was a statue, carved from marble in the shape of a god. His hip bones stood out against the pale flesh either side of the thick bush of brown curls between his legs, but it was Sherlock's cock which made John's mouth dry. It was longer than he'd expected, average girth and uncut with a gentle curve towards his stomach. The tacky precome had already begun to drip onto Sherlock's lower stomach with each throb of his shaft in the cold air of the flat.

"Fuck, Sherlock," John whispered, swallowing audibly.

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together and looked down at John quizzically, his fingers tightening in the towel which covered the bed as the ache in his crotch worsened.

John snapped out of his stare before reaching for the lube, flicking open the lid and pouring the cold sticky gel into his palms; he rubbed them together to warm the liquid before speaking in a gentle doctor voice.

"Sherlock, I'm going to touch you now. Just relax and breathe, don't worry about anything, just enjoy the sensations," John soothed, as his hands slowly lowered to the hot skin of Sherlock's shaft.

The first skim of John's hand had Sherlock gasping and arching his back for more, a deep groan escaping his lips as John rubbed the lube onto the younger man's cock. John used his palm to press on the underside of Sherlock, pressing his cock against his lower stomach as he spread the wetness over the tight skin, feeling the pronounced veins under the extremely hard shaft. Sherlock sighed and whimpered under his breath as his hips desperately circled, looking for more friction.

"Okay, I'm going to put my hand around you and stroke gently, if you need more or less, let me know," John whispered, his voice deep with lust and arousal.

Sherlock nodded almost imperceptively as the new sensations flooded his body and quieted his mind, the noise and chatter completely drowned out by the feeling of John's skin on his. John circled his thick fingers around Sherlock's shaft and stroked firmly from tip to base, watching enraptured as the dusky pink tip began leaking fluid over Sherlock's foreskin, dripping over John's fist as he stroked in a steady rhythm, up, down, up, down.

Sherlock's breathing was ragged, his eyes closed tight and his teeth biting his bottom lip as his hips rocked against John's hand. The pleasure was unlike anything he had ever felt before, almost as good as heroin but without the risks; Sherlock whimpered as John rubbed his large hands over the soft skin of his balls, his finger probing the skin between his balls and most sensitive area. Sherlock was losing control; his hips jerked harder causing John's hand to slip.

"Oh John, oh," Sherlock cried at the loss of contact, his eyes flying open to look at John's red and flushed face. His eyes were darker than Sherlock had ever seen them before.

"I'm here, it's okay. I'm here," John whispered, climbing to straddle the tops of Sherlock's thighs as his hand continued its exploration. Sherlock sighed happily at the weight of John pressing him into the bed, feeling almost grounded as the intense pleasure coursed through his nerves.

"J-John... I can't… I don't… oh god," Sherlock mumbled, his brain fuddled with endorphins he had never felt before. His left hand moved from its death grip on the bedding to John's hip, holding him tight enough to bruise as he got closer to… something.

John felt the warmth of Sherlock's hand over his pyjama bottoms and his cock twitched inside its fabric confines. He groaned deeply and desperately wanted to fish his cock out and stroke himself alongside Sherlock, but he didn't know how the younger man would react. He also wanted to watch Sherlock's face as he reached his first climax, which John knew wouldn't be long now as Sherlock's hips flicked roughly and his breathing was ragged, innocent and indecent moans and whimpers escaping his bow lips.

"It's okay, Sherlock, relax, just let it g-" John started before being almost bucked from Sherlock's thighs as the younger man reached his peak. Sherlock's eyes flew open in panic as the unbelievable sensations fired around his body and his muscles contracted.

John watched bewitched as Sherlock's stomach locked and juddered under his skin, his hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets and his face blissfully open as the first rope of come escaped his prick and was sent flying onto his own cheek. Sherlock gasped and bucked as ropes followed, huge stringy white blobs covering the pale pink skin of Sherlock's neck and torso as he rode out his orgasm, wave after wave of shuddering muscles in his thighs and stomach setting the bed rocking against the wall.

"Oh fuck, John," Sherlock swore loudly, his stomach clenching hard causing him to sit up and headbutt John painfully, knocking the doctor off his bed and onto the floor with a loud bang.

"Jooohn," Sherlock groaned, his orgasm still washing over his body as he attempted to look for John, panic crossing his features.

"It's alright, Sherlock, I'm alright," John laughed, checking his nose for blood and finding none. "I'm okay."

Sherlock relaxed and allowed the sensations to engulf his tired body; he felt as though he was flying or floating away from the bed. Sleepy whimpers softly escaped his lips as he felt the stress and angst dissolve into the London night. He was half asleep when he heard John talking and a softer, female voice reply, "Oh dear."

John quickly turned Mrs Hudson around from his bedroom, attempting to limit the damage of her seeing Sherlock already half asleep and coated in his own semen. She explained in a loud voice that she had heard a bang and had come to check everything was okay but she needed to go and have a nice strong cup of tea now, her voice cracking with either embarrassment or distaste as she reached the stairs.

"Well young man, you'll be washing those sheets yourself. Not your housekeeper," she smiled as she turned to the stairs before twirling quickly and grabbing John for a quick hug. "I'm so glad you two finally got together. Sherlock has always talked about it you know," she winked, before moving back downstairs to lock herself in her flat and turn up the radio.

John walked back to his room where Sherlock lay unconscious, doped up with happy hormones from his first ever orgasm. John checked the clock and realised Sherlock had only been in his room for fifteen minutes but reasoned that with thirty-odd years of tension, he probably wouldn't have lasted long either. He walked to the bathroom and soaked a towel in warm water before bringing it back into the bedroom, cleaning Sherlock's sticky residue away from his skin. He cleaned the stripe from Sherlock's face before pulling the duvet up to cover the naked young man who was snoring softly in John's bed. John held the towel close to his own erection and had filled the fabric with his own come within ten strokes, his orgasm hitting him hard and quick and making him gasp loudly as he erupted into the towel. John threw the towel into the corner before pulling the duvet over himself and turning to his side, one of his large warm hands resting on the clammy skin of Sherlock's torso as he fell asleep, unsure of what would happen next.


	2. Chapter 2

John rooted around his wardrobe, looking for the box he had hidden from Sherlock's prying eyes since moving in. He found it and pulled it onto his bed, opening the lid and peering at the various goodies inside. His fingers trailed over the various sized toys until he reached the one he wanted, plus a few other things he planned on showing the young detective that night. His heart raced as he placed them by his bed, along with the new tube of expensive lubricant he had bought especially for their continued exploration. He stood and walked to the shower, cleaning himself thoroughly before shouting Sherlock to shower too and then come into his room.

The younger man followed John's orders, washing himself clean and walking into the bedroom clad only in a towel, much like the night before. He lay on John's bed and watched the older man fiddle around with the wet towels on the floor.

"Okay. I thought we could try toys tonight?" John asked carefully, not wanting to spook the younger inexperienced man.

Sherlock nodded nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply.

"I won't do anything you don't want. Tell me and I'll stop," John soothed, his fingers caressing Sherlock's skin causing goosebumps to raise over the pale skin.

John reached for Sherlock's already hardening shaft, his hand stroking the warm skin to ensure Sherlock was comfortable with his touch. When Sherlock relaxed, John poured the cold lube onto his hands and warmed it quickly before stroking the shaft, listening to Sherlock's happy gasp at the contact. John stroked in a steady rhythm, working the younger man up to the edge and then pulling away gently, watching Sherlock's features become clouded with tension as he desperately tried to climax.

"Now you're relaxed, I want you to take deep breaths, count one when you breathe in, two when you breathe out. Can you do that?" John chattered as his hand slicked up his fingers once more.

Sherlock nodded, his eyebrows knitting with concentration as he attempted to focus on the task rather than the sensations which skipped along his spine. His eyes opened as he felt John attempt to penetrate his virgin entrance, a warm digit pressing against the spot which seemed so dirty and deviant to touch.

"J-John are you sure?" Sherlock stammered, his eyes wide with a mix of arousal and fear.

John soothed the younger man, his hand stroking the flat skin of Sherlock's stomach leaving smudges of lube to glisten on the skin.

"It feels nice, oh so nice, but I don't want to push you. I can finish you off with my hand if you like?" John insisted, his finger moving from the puckered ring.

"N-No… just… slowly," Sherlock mumbled, his face red with shame at his arousal.

John smiled sweetly and continued to press against the tightness; he spoke gently telling Sherlock to breathe and count to relax himself which Sherlock did, feeling the strange sensation of something entering him for the first time.

"Oh," Sherlock keened as he felt the first knuckle of John's index finger penetrate him, his fingers gripping the bed as he focused on counting, one _inhale,_ two _exhale._

John watched as his finger slowly entered his best friend. As a doctor, he had done this procedure hundreds of times but he had never felt nervous like this; his stomach fluttered as he watched Sherlock's face for pain and seeing none, he pressed further, his finger sliding into the extreme heat of Sherlock's virgin body as the younger man whimpered above.

"How does that feel?" John asked, his other hand moving to wrap around the shaft of Sherlock's now leaking cock.

"Ung... Oh... J-John," Sherlock groaned, his breathing becoming heavier.

John concentrated on his medical training and twisted his finger, pressing lightly on the swollen bud of Sherlock's prostate, watching the younger man arch his back at the strange sensations. John continued softly stroking, pressing in circles against the nerves and watching the reactions exploding from Sherlock's face.

His lips were open, his eyes tightly shut. Sherlock had his fingers in a death grip against the bedding as his chest heaved with deep breaths. John stilled for a moment, watching to ensure Sherlock was okay.

"Oh J-John, please don't stop," Sherlock whimpered, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

John stroked Sherlock's cock in a steady rhythm, holding the shaft tightly and watching as precome dripped steadily over his fist and onto Sherlock's pubic hair. John's own cock was leaking in his bottoms, creating an ever-growing puddle against the material.

John removed his hand slowly, reaching for one of the packages he had stored earlier and gripping the toy tightly. He had seen it in porn, and decided to buy himself one when he was going through a dry patch and was impressed with how good it felt. He held the warmed fleshlight in his hand and slowly slipped the tip of Sherlock inside the tight hole, watching as the younger man looked down in shock at the sensations before he groaned deeply and began his orgasm. John hadn't even managed a single thrust into the toy before Sherlock had begun to unload; John held the toy steady as Sherlock's cock erupted into the fake vagina whilst Sherlock's arse tightened around his finger inside of him. Sherlock moaned and whimpered as the orgasmic bliss washed over him and left him weak and exhausted.

John removed his finger gently, wiping it off on one of the towels before using both hands to pull the fleshlight from Sherlock's shaft, leaving the plastic toy abandoned on the towel as John cleaned up his friend, ensuring he was okay.

Sherlock could hardly lift his head nor speak, his body felt alien and heavy as John cleaned him up efficiently before covering the pair with the duvet. Sherlock was asleep moments later, much to John's amusement.

* * *

 

"You didn't come," Sherlock whispered.

John opened one bleary eye; it was still dark in his bedroom and growing warmer thanks to the two men pressed closely against one another. John blinked and swallowed, looking over at the shadow where Sherlock spoke.

"What?" John asked sleepily.

"Last night you did. I felt you as you got into bed, but you didn't tonight. Why didn't you come?" Sherlock asked innocently.

John wasn't sure why he hadn't, he was certainly aroused enough but the unbelievably erotic scene with Sherlock had exhausted him and he had just wanted to sleep.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sherlock nervously whispered.

"What? No! Of course not. I was just tired and didn't want to wake you," John answered.

"Oh… well, I'm not asleep now," Sherlock grinned, his eyes glittering in the darkness of the room.

"I was though," John laughed as he realised he was now wide awake beside his friend.

"Can I watch you?" Sherlock asked, clicking on the bedside lamp causing John to flinch and cover his eyes at the intrusive light.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock, I'm blind," he giggled, nudging Sherlock in the arm.

"I couldn't see in the dark though," Sherlock insisted, lying on his side with his head resting on his hand.

John could feel the stirrings of an erection returning; his balls ached from being so aroused earlier and then left to soften naturally without stimulation. He gripped his hand tightly around his base, stroking softly until his cock stood erect from the mass of blond curls, his eyes closing as he swirled his hand around the tip, his thumb brushing the sensitive slit. The doctor heard Sherlock sigh breathlessly and move himself closer to John's body, breathing the same air as they inhaled and exhaled together in arousal.

It didn't take John long to come; he had wanted to hold off his orgasm as long as possible, but listening to Sherlock's pained groans each time John moaned was too much. The older man tugged harshly and arched his back as his orgasm began, soaking his stomach and chest with his seed.

Sherlock panted, his eyes sparkling above flushed cheeks as he watched John relax and give in to the blissful afterglow of his orgasm. The younger man trailed his fingers through John's cooling semen and brought it to his lips, gently placing the liquid into his mouth and sucking with a pornographic slurp.

John stiffened, his eyes darting around the room at this new scenario; despite what had happened so far they hadn't _discussed_ what was happening between them. They hadn't kissed or tasted one another’s skin. It was purely an experiment in Sherlock's pleasure… Or so John had told himself.

"Now I've come already, can we try that toy again?" Sherlock asked excitedly, seemingly unaware of John's nervousness at their changing relationship.

"Huh? Oh, the fleshlight. Yeah, two seconds," John smiled, leaving the comfort and warmth of the bed to clean himself and the fleshlight for the next round. He came back with a warmed up and clean fleshlight and began to prep Sherlock once more.

John wanted to go further, he reached for the small plug he had placed by the bed watching Sherlock's eyes follow it and his cheeks blush. John smiled sweetly and asked if Sherlock wanted to go further to which Sherlock emphatically nodded his head.

John lubed up the toy and his fingers, spreading the wetness over Sherlock's still extremely tight hole as his index finger breached the rings of muscle, pressing down into the wet heat of Sherlock's body. He pulled out and added a second, checking Sherlock's face for pain but finding none, and worked him open until he felt confident that the toy would fit. The doctor pulled out his fingers, and softly pressed the purple toy inside his friend's arse. Slowly, softly and with gentle caresses to Sherlock's cock, he pressed the entire toy inside, watching Sherlock grind his hips lazily as the pointed tip nudged against his prostate perfectly, making him cry out.

John watched, completely enraptured by Sherlock's face. It was already red and clammy, sweat sticking his hair down to his skin as his lips opened and closed in erotic bliss at the stronger sensations inside his body. John used the time to slick the inside of the fleshlight before pressing it down over the tip, watching as inch after inch of Sherlock's long cock disappeared into the plastic lips. Sherlock whimpered and groaned deeply as the pleasure flooded his nerves, quietening his brain until he could only focus on breathing and moaning. His eyes blinked open to stare at John lovingly, his lips moving in a silent "oh" as John started a rhythm up and down his shaft, feeling the pull of his cock inside the toy.

"John, please," Sherlock whispered, his body both hot yet shivery on the inside.

"What do you need?" John asked, his fingers stroking over Sherlock's thighs calmingly.

Sherlock had no idea what he needed, he hadn't even been aware he was speaking but he looked towards his best friend in longing. "Kiss me, John."

John felt a bolt of electricity run up his spine at the younger man's words and changed his position so he could still stroke Sherlock's cock, whilst able to lick and caress his lips at the same time. The two men lay side by side, Sherlock's legs open wantonly as he gyrated his hips for the friction he so desperately needed, as John brought his face closer to Sherlock's.

"Are you sure?" John asked nervously.

Sherlock didn't answer; he smashed their lips against one another in a frenzied and passionate embrace. Colours flashed behind his eyes at the sensations of the toy inside him, the toy around him and John's own lips against his; he very nearly came that second but managed to hold it tightly.

John opened his lips slightly, licking his tongue over Sherlock's bottom lip before biting and nipping at the swollen flesh, listening to the erotic and frankly pornographic noises escaping from Sherlock's lips. He swallowed the moans, teasing Sherlock's tongue with his own until the two men found a steady rhythm, their tongues sliding over one another's as Sherlock got closer to his release.

"J-John," Sherlock stammered, his voice low and husky. "It feels... different. Good, but different."

"Tell me," John whispered into Sherlock's ear, his warm breath tickling the younger man's sensitive skin.

"I feel hot yet cold. I feel shaky… I want to explode but it's not just from my cock… my whole body is tingling," Sherlock whispered, his voice cracking occasionally with a pleasurable groan or whine.

"Relax, let it come. Breathe, Sherlock, just breathe." John smiled softly, his lips pressing a soft kiss against the skin behind Sherlock's ear.

"John… John, fuck, oh god, JOHHHHN!" Sherlock screamed, his back arching and his body tensing as the sensations overpowered his already hazy brain. His eyes rolled back in his head and his toes curled painfully against the bedding as he filled the fleshlight with another large load of come, feeling exhausted and drained of life as his body relaxed back to the bed.

John continued to stroke Sherlock's prick until he was sure that the younger man had finished his orgasm. Slipping off the plastic toy, he watched as Sherlock's glistening cock slapped against his stomach, leaving a trail of wetness against pale skin.

"J-John, my… my bum… it hurts," Sherlock winced, attempting to reach below himself to pull out the toy. John slapped his hands away and, softly and gently, removed the plastic toy from Sherlock's tightness, watching as the opened hole closed again immediately.

John threw the toys to one side along with the lube, before pulling the duvet back over Sherlock's sleepy waist. The younger man was cooing softly, a smile planted on his lips as he stroked his stomach with long musician's fingers; John watched the intimate gesture before pulling the covers up to their shoulders, and lying side by side the two men kissed again, long and lazy with lots of sweet smiles before pulling away.

"Cuddle me?" Sherlock asked innocently, his naked form turning onto its side to fit against John's rugged hairy stomach and chest. John fit himself around his best friend and wrapped his arm over Sherlock's side, their fingers entwining into one another's as they drifted off to sleep.

"Thank you," Sherlock whispered, squeezing John's fingers tightly before dropping off to sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Their next session was held off for a few days due to a particularly grizzly double murder. Sherlock ran around London, dragging John with him as he interviewed witnesses or suspects until he figured out the case, and contacted Lestrade with the information. A thinly veiled smug smile crossed his lips as he shot down Sally and Anderson's theories before explaining how the murderer got away with it. Simple really, he explained, when you're not an idiot.

John watched him fascinated; the younger man had always been wondrous to him, his deductions and ability to think so differently to others were one of the reasons that John had come to love Sherlock. He realised he was staring at Sherlock's pink lips, causing the detective to clear his throat a few times before clicking his fingers in John's face rudely to get his attention.

"Honestly, John. You could just wait until we get home," Sherlock had muttered quietly, yet still able to be overheard by Lestrade who looked shocked at the revelation.

John had quickly dragged Sherlock from the building and into a waiting taxi back to Baker Street.

"You can't say things like that," John shouted, his head in his hands as he attempted to explain Sherlock's mistake.

"Why not? You could have kissed me when you got home, that's what you were thinking about… I was merely deducing your thoughts," Sherlock said confused, his eyes narrowing to stare at John.

"Yes, but whatever _this_ is between us… I don't want people to know," John sighed, gesturing between them.

Sherlock's face fell for a split second, and John could have sworn he heard something break inside Sherlock as the younger man fought to maintain his composure. "Well, I understand now. I won't discuss it any further and won't ask for your help anymore. Thank you, John," Sherlock muttered, before striding confidently out of the front room and into his bedroom, closing the door with a loud slam.

John exhaled shakily; standing from his chair, he walked to the barrier between him and his friend, resting his forehead on the cold wood of the bedroom door.

"Sherlock, can I come in?"

"No," was the simple reply from inside.

"Fine, I"ll talk to you through the door then," John smiled. "I don't want people to know because I don't want to have to label what we have. People are so obsessed with relationships and getting involved in other people's business. I don't want that. I want you and you alone for a while until we work out where we are going together…" he trailed off. Sitting on his bum on the cold landing floor whilst talking to a door wasn't exactly how he planned this heart to heart.

"Sherlock, I adore you. You know I do. You're the most annoying, arrogant, lovely, bloody mad bastard I've ever met and I love you for it. I just don't want to rush into _coming out_. I think it would be a mistake to tell people so early."

The door opened and John craned his neck to see Sherlock standing topless, clad in only his black trousers looking down at him.

"So it's not because of me? I didn't do anything wrong?" The younger man asked, blushing.

"What? Of course not!" John replied, shaking his head. "Why did you think that?"

"I just… I know I'm no good at things. Relationship things. You've been so good to me but I haven't touched you yet and I thought you may have been getting annoyed," Sherlock confided, his face and neck covered in a pink blush.

"God no. I mean, I'd like you to touch me… when you're ready but I have so much more to teach you about pleasure," John smiled, his hand reaching up to grab Sherlock's long fingers in his own.

"John?" Sherlock asked with a coy smile. "Would you like to kiss me now?"

John didn't need to be asked twice. He locked his lips with Sherlock's and pressed his fingers into the younger man's hips, walking him back to the bed before pushing him onto the mattress and closing the door behind him.

* * *

 

The morning sunlight streamed in through a crack in John's blackout curtains, awkwardly hitting the doctor in his sleepy eyes. He grumbled to himself and pulled his arm to cover his lids and make the light go away, smiling as he felt the warm body beside him in bed. A soft purring snore escaped Sherlock's pink lips as he breathed, his eyelids fluttering as he slept. John pulled himself out of bed, moving his stiff shoulder in circles before reaching for his old comfortable dressing gown; he wrapped it around himself and left the sleeping detective alone in John's bed.

He made tea and sat on the sofa, his laptop balanced on his knee as he read through the news websites and checked his blog and social media. Nothing had exploded or burnt down whilst they had slept which was always a good sign and John relaxed slightly. He clicked on the TV and watched some god awful morning chat show where people screamed at one another and attempted to fight on stage. John couldn't help being captivated by the distasteful telly and didn't hear the familiar padding of Sherlock's feet.

"Humph, you should have woken me," Sherlock yawned, his fingers messing in his curls which had frizzed during the night.

John shrugged and moved over to the side of the sofa so Sherlock could sit beside him, looking at the TV. "What is this dreadful noise?" He asked.

"Don't know. I think that one has been sleeping with that one behind the other one's back," John smiled, filling Sherlock in on the story.

The two men sat in comfortable silence as John finished his tea; Sherlock sat chewing his long fingers nervously, unsure whether to discuss their encounter the night before.

"Did you sleep okay?" Sherlock asked, deciding to ignore it.

"Yeah, out like a light. What about you?" John smiled.

"Better than a long time," Sherlock confessed.

"Orgasms will do that," John laughed, before blushing at Sherlock's embarrassed reaction. "Sorry… Sorry, do you not want to talk about it?"

"It's fine, John," Sherlock smiled. "Thank you. I'm going to go out. I'll see you tonight?"

The younger man swooped from his seat up to his bedroom; John heard him get dressed before he started down the stairs and out into the dreary London streets.

* * *

John showered quickly, stroking himself to a messy orgasm whilst in the tub before changing and heading out to work.

 **Where are you? –** **SH**

 **I'm at work. Afternoon shift. I'll be home about 6 –** **JW**

 **I'm bored –** **SH**

 **You watch far too much pornography –** **SH**

 **Sherlock! Get off my laptop. Bloody hell –** **JW**

 **Im only saying! You do have an awful lot of it though –** **SH**

**Kill. Me. Now - JW**

John put his head on the desk, sighing deeply with shame and embarrassment as he realised that Sherlock was going through his internet history. He had changed the password regularly and deleted his history often but it didn't seem to stop the detective who could find out everything within a matter of moments. John calmed his breathing and relaxed until his face was no longer blushing and called in his next patient, hoping Sherlock wouldn't be too nightmarish that night.

* * *

 

Sherlock meanwhile was lying on the sofa, John's laptop pressed against his knees as he skipped through the various videos which featured in John's watched list. Big breasted women jiggled around on dead eyed muscly men as they screamed and shouted profanities at the top of their voices. Sherlock cringed as he watched one poor woman seemingly impaled by three men at once until she was thrown to the floor and the men wanked over the woman's face, calling her a slut and a whore as she sat patiently with her tongue out. Sherlock didn't feel sexy after watching the video, and he couldn't see how anybody could.

Sherlock did some searching of his own, finding categories of videos of men helping other men to come. The tags said 'sexploration' and the videos were surprisingly erotic to Sherlock's innocent eyes; young attractive men were massaged and stroked, teased and caressed until they exploded with a shake and groan. Sherlock enjoyed the videos a lot and realised that he had an erection as he watched the man's hand as he stroked a steady rhythm up and down the porn star's length.

"Ahem," John cleared his throat, standing in the doorway to the front room. "Have you been sat here watching porn since you text me?"

"What time is it?" Sherlock asked, surprised to see John.

"Six thirty," John replied with a smile.

"Well… then yes. I've been watching porn for that time," Sherlock shrugged, looking up at the doctor who shook his head and walked to the kitchen with his Tesco bags.

"Im making sandwiches. Put down the porn," John laughed.

* * *

The two men sat eating and chatting easily; Sherlock asked about John's day and John replied with anecdotes regarding one of the receptionists and her recent trip abroad. Sherlock listened without paying much attention but reacting when expected.

The conversation soon got onto the porn which Sherlock had discovered. He asked John who shyly stated that he only watched it for stimulation. He wasn't attracted to the women, he just needed something to get him hard when he was too tired to fantasise. Sherlock seemed to understand and moved away from the topic.

Sherlock had steepled his fingers under his chin and looked at the doctor. "I'd very much like to continue what we were doing… if it's okay with you. I know you're not gay."

John's mouth went dry and he nodded, watching Sherlock grin before grabbing his hand.

"Thank god, I've been erect for hours," Sherlock smiled before dragging the man into his bedroom.

"What would you like to do tonight?" John had asked as Sherlock straddled his waist and ground his arse across John's rapidly hardening cock.

Sherlock blushed sweetly as he looked down at John who lay flushed beneath him, his cock pressed painfully against Sherlock's buttocks.

"I don't… I don't think I'm ready to go all the way yet," Sherlock admitted with a nervous bite to his lip. "But I want to do more."

John nodded, his hand stroking lazily up Sherlock's spine, watching the younger man shiver.

"Can I taste you?" John asked, watching Sherlock's eyes close as a groan escaped his lips.

"Please, John, please," Sherlock added, leaning down to press his lips against John's, their tongues meeting for deep kisses as they exhaled deeply into one another's lungs.

John ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls before pulling the younger man away. "I love this… but that's not what I want to taste."

"Oh," Sherlock whimpered, his hips jerking momentarily as John grabbed at his hips and swapped places until Sherlock lay prone on the bed, his heart pounding in his ears.

John kissed down Sherlock's neck, glad of the new intimacy between them so he could actually lick and kiss all of the places he had fantasised about for the last few years. He moved down quickly, scared of losing his nerve and going through with his first ever blowjob.

He reached into the tight fabric of Sherlock's boxers before pulling them down, freeing the extremely red cock from their confines. The older man looked up at Sherlock, who met his gaze before dropping his head back against the pillow as John licked a thick strip from base to tip, tasting the spice and musk of Sherlock's body against his tongue as he felt Sherlock judder beneath him.

John opened his lips slightly and pressed Sherlock's tip inside his mouth, tasting the tangy precome as it dripped against his taste buds. Sherlock sighed and moaned, his hips lifting up and his fingers gripping at John's blond tufts of hair. "J _oohfuck,"_ he whispered as John smiled around his cock, his fingers gripping the lower part of the shaft as he concentrated on sucking and licking around the sensitive head, tasting and coating every inch of his mouth and lips with the taste of Sherlock.

Sherlock whimpered as the heat covered his tip; sensations the likes of which made his head spin dizzyingly as John sucked and licked at his cock. He realised he wouldn't last long and should warn John of his impending orgasm, and attempted to pull John's head back, groaning and keening with each stroke of John's talented tongue before choking out a loud, _"JOHN, COMING, GOD."_ His body tensed as John pressed against a spot on his shaft almost painfully, the urge to come quickly diminished but the pleasure remained, humming around his nerves.

"I-I don't understand," Sherlock panted. "Did you not want me to come?"

"Not yet," John said with a wicked smile, his fingers removing themselves from Sherlock's shaft so the men could kiss again deeply and sensually.

Sherlock groaned low at being teased but said nothing; he had trusted John this far, he may as well continue.

"Can I do something?" John asked with a flustered blush.

Sherlock nodded quizzically and watched as John reached for one of Sherlock's scarves, grabbing Sherlock's hands and tying them to the headboard securely, explaining softly how he wanted to see the detective helpless and under his control which made Sherlock gasp and his cock twitch in arousal. John smiled and kissed the younger man deeply before telling him to turn over.

It was hard; Sherlock couldn't quite lift himself correctly without the use of his arms, but with John's help the slim man was soon bent over the bed, his hands together, elbows against the sheets and his arse in the air for John's lustful gaze.

"Yes… yes fuck that's perfect, Sherlock," John whispered, his hand stroking along Sherlock's pale skin.

John walked to the bottom of the bed and grabbed Sherlock's buttocks, pulling them apart slightly to look at the tight hole, so virgin and pink, touched by John alone. John lowered himself until he was kneeling by Sherlock's arse, and then extending his tongue, licked a long strip from the younger man's bollocks to spine, watching as Sherlock tightened and growled low in his throat.

John was embarrassed at how hard and aroused he was. Seeing Sherlock totally under his control was extremely wicked and his voice cracked as he spoke low to the detective.

"Such a good boy, always so clever, Sherlock, but now you're under my control and I want to play with you. I want to touch and tease you until you're begging for me to let you come. I want to lick and tease your hole as I play with your cock, not letting you come until you're almost insane from pleasure."

Sherlock made a low whine from his throat, and his cock twitched between his legs as he heard John using his 'Captain' voice, yet saying such filthy words. He nodded and groaned his agreement, wiggling his bum in an attempt to get John to touch him again.

"Tell me, Sherlock, what do you want?" John growled low, his fingers tracing softly over the puckered hole again.

"Please, John… your tongue. What you did just then," he whimpered.

"Not good enough. Tell me what you want," John smiled, his finger moving away from the sensitive skin.

"Oh god. Please lick my arse, John. Touch me, anywhere, I don't care, just please touch me," Sherlock begged, his eyes closed in embarrassment at his needy voice.

John immediately dived back to Sherlock's opening, licking and lapping at the hole. He wasn't unused to rimming after doing it with other partners but this time, it felt sexier because it was Sherlock moaning and whining beneath his talented tongue. John smiled and changed the shape of his tongue, giving broad flat tongue licks before pointing them and gently opening up the tight ring, listening to Sherlock cry out and press himself further onto John's tongue.

The doctor brought his hand up to stroke and tease the cock which hung hard beneath Sherlock's thighs. He rubbed his thumb over the tip, feeling the wetness dripping over his skin as Sherlock attempted to buck into the friction.

John continued licking, his hand moving whilst his tongue probed the sensitive skin around Sherlock's arsehole. Sherlock was shaking now, juddering and shivering under John's touches and the doctor knew he shouldn't keep him on edge much longer.

"Do you want to come?" He asked, slightly muffled by Sherlock's arse cheeks.

Sherlock could only cry out a deep groan. His eyes were closed tightly as he bit into his lower lip, his hands attached to the headboard with the flimsy scarf that Sherlock could escape without a moment's hesitation… but he didn't want to escape. He kept still against the bondage and whimpered with every caress and touch.

John gave a few more fleeting licks to Sherlock's hole before rolling onto his back and pressing Sherlock's cock into his lips and sucking hard. Feeling the long strands of precome dripping over his lips and down his throat as he sucked, John moaned, and Sherlock shuddered once, twice and then began to come. His ejaculate shot into John's open mouth and throat; John coughed and gagged a few times as he attempted to swallow the large load before giving up, finishing Sherlock's orgasm with his hand.

Sherlock groaned and sighed happily as his orgasm washed over him; he felt John open his own boxers and press his cock against the soft curve of his buttocks. For a moment Sherlock panicked that John may fuck him without preparation or lube, but he realised immediately that John wouldn't do that, even overcome with lust and longing the doctor was too nice and careful to hurt Sherlock. He turned his head to watch John press his cock in the cleft of his arse and begin thrusting, spitting on his cock to lubricate the skin as he worked to get himself off using Sherlock's cheeks. It didn't take long before John's hips became shaky and Sherlock felt the hot flicking of sperm coating his lower back and John erupted in his own orgasm. The older man collapsed forwards on top of Sherlock as he got his breath back, his hips jerking as each aftershock went through his body.

Sherlock sighed happily as John collapsed against him; feeling the familiar weight of John against his skin made him feel secure. John groaned and stood shakily, his chest heaving with exhaustion at the overwhelming orgasm which had been unleashed, before walking to the bathroom and cleaning himself up and returning to the bedroom. He cleaned the wetness which smeared along Sherlock's back, climbed into bed beside Sherlock and untied the scarf from the headboard.

"Th'nks" Sherlock said sleepily, his voice muffled by the fluffy pillow. John chuckled and kissed Sherlock sweetly on the cheek.

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who read my first version of this will notice I deleted the come drinking. It made my stomach churn every time I read it so it had to go. Sorry!

**I want to return the favour. Tonight –** **SH**

 **You don't have to do that. It was never about me –** **JW**

 **I want to. I want to know what it's like –** **SH**

 **We'll talk about it when I finish work –** **JW**

 **Come on John, you know you want my lips around your cock –** **SH**

 **I know you love my fingers, I watch you watching them. Imagine them around your shaft and in your arse –** **SH**

 **FUCK! Sherlock stop. I can't do this at work –** **JW**

 **Why? You're sitting down. Imagine me sucking you under your desk. You would have to talk to patients without them knowing I'm there –** **SH**

 **Sherlock, please –** **JW**

 **Oh yes John, you will be saying please when you're in my throat. Making me gag –** **SH**

 **I'm turning off my phone –** **JW**

 **Oh. Well. You'll never know what I'm doing with your toy box then –** **SH**

 **Stop going through my stuff. Don't hurt yourself. Wait until I get back and I'll help –** **JW**

 **[Image enclosed] –** **SH**

 **Can you see the toy in my arse John? It's big. Bigger than the purple one and it stretches me so wide, I want to get wide for your cock –** **SH**

 **You're killing me, Sherlock. I'll be home for lunch –** **JW**

 

* * *

John walked into the flat on his lunch break; he had lied to Sarah and said there had been an emergency and he would be back late. She had nodded and rearranged the schedule, especially so John could leave. He jumped into a taxi and was back at Baker Street in minutes.

Sherlock wasn't in the front room or kitchen, and there was no water running so that only left the bedrooms. John walked quickly to his bedroom and opened the door to the image of Sherlock naked, his arse in the air whilst his hips fucked into the Fleshlight. The black bottom of the anal plug was visible as John watched the younger man's thrusts become jerkier and desperate, his sighs loud and low as he charged towards his climax.

"You just couldn't wait, could you?" John smiled, his hand slapping against Sherlock's pale arse with a loud crack.

Sherlock's eyes widened and he twisted his head towards the unexpected pain, seeing John standing by the bed.

"I didn't hear you come in," Sherlock moaned, his hand's stilling.

"It's a good job it was me and not Mrs Hudson. Poor woman would be traumatised," John laughed.

"Help me, John, it's not as good when I do it alone," Sherlock pouted, his hand reaching for John's own.

"No. You've been naughty, Sherlock. You're a naughty boy," John said in his Captain's voice, which drove the detective wild. "You need to be punished."

Sherlock's eyes widened as he attempted to deduce John's motivation. He had never seemed into Domination but Sherlock hadn't expected him to be into him either which was a surprise. He cooed and nodded his head towards his lover. "Yes, John."

"I didn't hear that. Louder please," John asked, a large hand cracking against Sherlock's arse.

"I… I SAID YES JOHN," Sherlock stammered at the new sensations of burning pleasure against his arse cheeks.

"Hmmm, that's better," John said, rubbing his hands over the warm, red flesh, "but I think we need another few spanks just to make sure."

Sherlock keened at John's voice, so deep and velvety in the small room. John positioned himself so he was sitting on the edge of his bed, before slapping Sherlock's arse again and telling him to move himself over his knee. Sherlock followed the doctor's orders and laid himself on John's still clothed thighs, his cock still inside the forgotten fleshlight whilst his arsehole was still stretched around the plug.

"My needy little detective, couldn't wait until I got home. Look at the mess he's got himself into," John sighed, a hand resting on the red cheeks of Sherlock's arse.

_Crack_

"You shouldn't text me naughty pictures at work."

_Crack_

"You shouldn't go through my belongings without my consent."

_Crack_

"You shouldn't play with yourself, especially not with toys, without me."

_Crack_

Sherlock was stiffening now; each blow was a new burning sensation against the sensitive skin of his arse. The slaps pressing against the bottom of the plug, which stroked across his prostate with each movement.

_Crack_

"You shouldn't put ideas into my head."

John grabbed Sherlock's hair tightly, pulling the man's head back to look into his eyes. "Get on your knees and suck my cock."

Sherlock whimpered; his cock twitched inside the plastic toy which gripped his erection tightly. He moved to his knees, sighing at the movement of the toy inside him before looking up at John.

John unbuttoned his flies and fished out his hardened cock. Moisture was already forming at his tip, and he wiped it around the head with his thumb.

"I'm not going to undo my trousers. You must ensure you don't get any stains on them as I have to go back to work. Anything you spill will result in more spanks. Do you understand?" John said forcefully, gripping Sherlock's chin tightly.

"Yes, John," Sherlock replied, biting his bottom lip nervously before bringing his mouth closer to the older man's erection. He looked up and watched John's face soften into _his_ John and give him a supportive nod.

Sherlock took the first inch into his lips, suckling on the tip until he tasted the bitter precome drip onto his tongue. He moved his hand to grip the base of John's cock and stroked as he licked and sucked the head, his tongue moving along the sensitive glans. John arched his back and groaned deeply at the sensations of Sherlock's hot mouth engulfing his prick; he ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls and moaned as he felt the younger man gag softly as he attempted to take the full length.

Sherlock was in sensory overload; the taste was different to what he expected, the texture was unusual and the smell was an alluring mix of John's sweat, washing powder and his own body. Sherlock stored the information away in his mind palace and continued his first ever blowjob, trying hard to make it good like he had seen in pornography. He listened to the erotic sounds escaping John's lips and his cock twitched madly as though he was about to come just from the sexual groans from above.

John could feel his orgasm building quickly, and he desperately tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair and held him close as his climax approached. He groaned out a word of warning and was surprised when Sherlock replaced his mouth with the Fleshlight, catching John's ropes of come inside the plastic toy and not spilling a single drop onto his trousers. John cursed Sherlock's ingenuity as the sensations ranthrough his body and relaxed him. He watched enraptured as Sherlock pulled the toy away and placed his lips over the softening shaft, licking and sucking any remaining drops into his lips before tucking John away in his trousers and zipping them up.

"Sherlock, that was-" John started, before realising that Sherlock was now using the fleshlight on himself, quickly pulling it up and down his shaft using John's come as lubricant. The younger man groaned low and came hard with John's name on his lips, filling the toy with his own load.

"God," Sherlock muttered, before pulling the toy off himself and unscrewing the lid to see the two milky loads combined.

"Fuck you're sexy," John swooned, before grabbing Sherlock for a deep and lusty kiss.

"I need to get back to work but turn around first," John said with a smile, helping Sherlock to remove the large plug from his stretched and tired hole before smearing the hot and red flesh of Sherlock's buttocks with lotion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remote controlled fun! 
> 
> Chapter was also known as 'Not in front of Anderson!'

**"We have a case?" John asked as Sherlock burst into the front room excitedly, his eyes twinkling with glee.**

"Yes! Triple murder! Ooooh, I love these ones!" Sherlock laughed, his enthusiasm making John smile despite the horrific details of the case.

"I have an idea," John smiled, his cock hardening at the prospect of his adventurous plan. He explained it to Sherlock and watched the lust filled smirk quirk at Sherlock's lips.

"Let's go," Sherlock whispered, grabbing John's hand and pulling him to the bedroom.

* * *

John kept his hand in his pocket as they walked to the crime scene, his fingers tracing over the numerous buttons and dials attached to the discreet plastic remote. He looked at Sherlock who had immediately gone into Detective mode, his hands moving quickly over the corpse as he looked for clues. John hid a smile as he pressed the first button.

Sherlock shuddered and looked over at John in surprise, his lips attempting to hide a smile as he went back to deducing the scene. John walked to Lestrade and began talking to the obviously tired inspector as the two men discussed the most recent football match. John watched Sherlock over Greg's shoulder as he pressed another button, watching as Sherlock groaned slightly at the sensations of the toy hidden inside him. Lestrade and Donovan turned to investigate the noise but Sherlock kept his head down, his blush hidden by the large upturned collar of his Belstaff.

John bit the inside of his lip to stop himself laughing as he continued his conversation with Greg, occasionally pressing buttons and creating different vibrating and shuddering sensations inside of Sherlock. The younger man had whimpered and keened at the situation; he was on a crime scene, he was already erect in his tight trousers and his arse was clamped around the small buzzing pest inside him which he had allowed John to insert before the taxi had arrived. Sherlock palmed his erection through his trousers, attempting to find relief from the painful ache in his balls as Anderson approached.

"Ah, Anderson. How pleasant to see you," Sherlock said sarcastically, not even looking up from the body in front of him.

"Hello, freak," Anderson replied with a sneer.

"Oh Anderson, really, at least think of your own childish names if you want to insult me. Don't just steal Donovan's," Sherlock sighed tediously.

"I really dislike you, Holmes," Anderson spat, looking at the top of Sherlock's head, watching the curls blow in the wind.

"The feeling is mutu-ooohal!" Sherlock attempted, momentarily stunned by the strong wave of vibrations which had nudged his prostate causing him to grab onto the victim's sleeve tightly. He breathed deeply a few times, willing the urge to climax away; he didn't want the sensations of orgasm to be tarnished with the memory of Anderson standing over him.

"Anderson. Can you leave, please? Your stupidity is affecting me. My brain cells are killing themselves in your presence," Sherlock said carefully, his eyes meeting Anderson's momentarily before another shock ran through his body.

Sherlock glared at John who continued speaking to Lestrade. The doctor had a knowing smile on his face but didn't look in Sherlock's direction. The detective decided to have a long discussion about how sick and wrong it was that John was making his cock twitch in front of Anderson… ANDERSON for goodness sake! He calmed his breathing and ran a hand through his hair before standing up, his breath hitching at the new angle of the toy inside him.

His legs felt shaky and he was sure that his face was flushed and warm. He could feel the straining erection against the soft material of his trousers and attempted to hide the outline with his coat, cringing at the idea of being caught with an erection at the scene of a horrific double murder-suicide. He imagined what comments Donovan would make about him then; Sherlock Holmes the Corpse Caresser.

John smiled and moved over so Sherlock could stand beside him to brief Greg on his findings. It wasn't a triple murder, simply a double murder-suicide. The male was the perpetrator who had found his wife in a lesbian affair and shot them both in a fit of anger before turning the gun on himself.

John turned on the toy, a low and silent hum pressed against Sherlock's insides as he attempted to keep his voice straight and regular. Sherlock pressed his fingers inside his coat pockets, gripping them into fists to stop the urge to moan or rub his cock. John occasionally sent a large shock through the toy making Sherlock's eyes open wider before he cleared his throat and continued his deductions to a visibly confused Greg who looked at John quizzically, asking whether Sherlock was okay.

Sherlock had insisted he was fine and continued speaking, telling Lestrade to look at their telephone records and bank statements for more information, before the final and largest vibration rocked his prostate and made him audibly gasp out loud. His face flushed red and his knees almost buckled beneath him as his cock exploded in a creamy mess inside his underwear, soaking through until Sherlock could feel it running down his thighs. The detective whined under his breath pitifully and looked at John who grabbed his arms and steadied him, looking every inch the effective doctor.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John asked with a teasing smile which only Sherlock could see.

"Y-Y-Yes… I think I better go home. I don't..." he cleared his throat, "I'm not feeling so fresh anymore."

John coughed to hide his laughter as he understood Sherlock's predicament, and explained to Lestrade that Sherlock wasn't feeling well and needed to go home to sleep. Lestrade nodded with a knotted forehead as he watched Sherlock bend slightly forward, almost as though he was panting blissfully. He shooed the men from his crime scene and organised his team into clearing the area.

"Fuck, John. That was… god," Sherlock mumbled, holding onto John tightly as they walked away from the crime scene tape, the lingering smell of his ejaculate hanging in the air between them.

John switched the toy back on and listened to Sherlock hiss with sensitivity as his hole clenched around the sensation, his cock becoming interested once more. The men looked behind and seeing nobody, kissed long and passionately, John's fingers rubbing over the sopping fabric of Sherlock's crotch.

Their text tones went off at the same time, causing them to look at their mobiles.

 **Oh god. Move further over if you don't want to be seen. I feel sick –** **GL**

The two men giggled and moved away from the area, hailing a taxi and immediately fleeing back to Baker Street.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sherlock looked at the empty waiting room; it was lunchtime at the surgery and only one receptionist remained. She sat behind the counter looking bored whilst eating a sandwich and checking her mobile phone; Sherlock watched her throw her head back and laugh at a particularly witty tweet before he slipped unseen down the neutral coloured corridor towards the door marked Dr J Watson. He smiled and knocked patiently before opening the door and walking in, locking it behind him.**

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" John asked quizzically, looking up from his newspaper.

"Bored," Sherlock shrugged.

"Well… I'm at work. I can't really amuse you at the moment," John smiled at the younger man.

Sherlock met his eyes and walked closer to the desk, sitting on the edge of the wood before leaning forward and meeting John's lips in a tender kiss, tasting the lingering bacon sandwich the Doctor had eaten for lunch. John groaned and deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking into Sherlock's mouth as they erotically snogged in his consultant room.

The pair were panting and flushed after a few minutes of deep kissing, their cocks pressing against the fabric of their pants. John pulled away and cleared his throat, palming his cock roughly for the friction he desperately needed. Sherlock noticed and placed his hands over the area too, moving himself to sit in the gap between the splayed thighs. John's breathing caught in his throat as Sherlock moved to pull down the zip of John's plain work trousers, fishing out the hard erection and pressing it between his lips and sucking the tip; his tongue flicking over the exposed head and glans, tasting the salty precome already flowing.

"God... Sherlock we can't. I need to be back at work," John groaned.

"Nobody knows I'm here," Sherlock smiled, fitting himself under the desk with difficulty and cursing under his breath when his long legs wouldn't quite fold themselves correctly.

John sighed resignedly; he stood up and unlocked the door before sitting himself back down in his chair, pulling the chair into the desk where his proudly standing erection could be hidden from view. Sherlock began licking and sucking at the engorged velvety tip of John's cock, listening to John hiss and grip his chair tightly at the pleasant sensations. John coughed and cleared his throat before inviting the next patient in.

Throughout the many patients, Sherlock stroked and licked John until he was on the edge of climax, his legs shaking with tension and his voice breaking occasionally with pleasure. The patients luckily didn't notice anything was different with their beloved GP and blamed the red flush of his cheeks on the particularly clammy London weather. John got through his clients in record time before calling through to reception to let them know he was leaving for the afternoon on a case; the women bid him goodnight before hanging up.

"Sherlock, _god,_ please make me come," John begged, his whole body tense from the long edging session. Being teased to the point of climax for the last four hours yet not being able to come was too much for the middle aged doctor, and his body felt feverish with need. Sherlock took his lover down his throat, sucking and licking around the exposed head before pushing John's wheeled chair backwards and standing up, stretching his long legs.

"Back at the flat," Sherlock smiled, straightening the creases in his trousers before checking his reflection in the mirror above the sink. His face was flushed and his lips swollen but he was able to walk around without looking too lewd… except the hard on which pressed against his trousers. He rearranged himself so the tip was pointing at his navel before turning to John.

"Cab then?"

* * *

John ached; his whole body was tense and irritable at the torture of being edged. His cock felt heavy and painful pressed against the fabric of his work trousers, and each vibration in the cab was agony as he fought for control over his twitching organ.

Sherlock seemed happy to continue the torture; he licked and sucked at John's sensitive throat, catching the driver's eye as he watched the couple through the mirror. Sherlock turned his head and whispered low into John's ear.

"The driver wants you. He keeps staring at us in the mirror. He wants to pull over in a dark alley and pull out his cock, walking around to our door he wants to open it and press his tip inside your lips. Watching your lips split open and take him down your throat. I know how good you are at sucking my cock so I would watch, enraptured as the cabbie whines and grabs your hair, tangling his fingers whilst I pull out my cock and slowly stroke myself."

"Jesus, Sherlock," John moaned deeply, his cheeks flushing red at Sherlock's low and erotic tone. "Where did you learn to speak like this?! Shut up!" Sherlock laughed giddily and whispered, "porn," before continuing his filthy fantasy.

"Remember when you made me come at the crime scene? How absolutely desperate I was? That's how you look now, John. Your pupils are blown wide with arousal and I can smell the precome dripping into your boxers," Sherlock sighed, placing a soft kiss at the juncture of John's jaw and neck. "I bet the cabbie can, too, I bet his cock is hard and twitching inside his pants as he imagines lying you over the bonnet. Maybe he wont have lube so he'll make you lean forward and push his tongue into your arsehole. You'd groan and push back against his tongue, wouldn't you? You love the sensation of my tongue against your puckered hole."

John whined, a shiver rolling down his spine as he listened to Sherlock speak. He was so close to coming, but he needed stimulation.

"I wouldn't let him fuck you, though. No way. You're mine, John Watson. I want your first time to be with me but maybe I'd let the cabbie watch as you spread your legs open for me and groan as I slowly slip myself inside your throbbing hole." Sherlock smiled, watching John close his eyes and bite his lower lip as he whimpered in desperation. Sherlock checked the cabbie a final time to ensure the man was focussed on the road before Sherlock pressed his hand inside the older man's trousers and jerked John's cock roughly, a few sharp, effective strokes until he felt John arch his back and close his eyes. Their lips met in a rough kiss as Sherlock swallowed John's orgasmic groan, as rope after rope of come covered his fist and John's trousers.

The cab pulled up to the kerb outside Baker street and Sherlock got out quickly, his come soaked hand hidden in front as he opened the door and left John to fish through his pockets and pay the cab driver whilst still shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. The driver had simply smiled politely and thanked the doctor for the large tip.

John shook his head as he wandered inside the flat, and closed the door behind him with a dull thud.


	7. Chapter 7

**John awoke from a nightmare; his body was clammy and his throat was sore from crying in his sleep, but finding himself being embraced by a naked Sherlock was a new one. The younger man held John in his arms, softly cooing and calming the doctor until his breathing returned to normal; John held Sherlock's upper arms tightly as he rocked back and forth.**

He knew he would never get back to sleep, his mind was whirring with memories of combat, of blood and gore and horror. He reached to the bedside table taking his water glass and drinking before flicking on the radio, the soft jazz radio station helping clear away the screams which echoed in his head. The calming chords of Norah Jones' come away with me played around the silent bedroom.

_Come away with me  
And I'll never stop loving you_

Sherlock held John tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his head as the older man trembled in his arms.

* * *

John ached; his body felt tense but his shoulder was the worst. Sherlock noticed immediately and badgered the doctor until he was laid flat on his stomach, naked and exposed to Sherlock's gaze. The younger man grabbed the sweet smelling lotion from the bedside table before straddling John's bum and pouring a generous amount on his hands; warming the liquid between his hands he stroked and prodded John's painful and tight muscles, listening to the older man gasp and hiss in pain as Sherlock's long fingers manipulated his spine. Sherlock added more lotion and continued his exploration, stroking along the strong manly back and along John's ribs, making John giggle and swat his hands away.

Sherlock moved his bum further down John's legs so he could stroke and caress John's buttocks, pressing them together before pulling them apart; listening to John whimper at being so open to Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock listened to John's breathing and finding no pain, he opened the fleshy cheeks and pressed his lips and tongue to John's hole, watching the older man buck against the sensation. Sherlock ran his fingers along the ridge of each buttock, his tongue tasting the salty musk of John's most private area.

"Lift," Sherlock motioned, grabbing John's hips and helping him onto his knees with his face buried in the pillow.

This angle was better for Sherlock to probe at the sensitive area, his tongue flattening to give wide long licks before he pointed the muscle and pressed it inside the tightness. John was whining and whimpering above him, causing Sherlock's cock to drip precome against the mattress as his tongue licked and caressed sweetly. Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's cock and stroked lazily, his tongue matching the slow rhythm his hand set to keep John on edge.

John knew exactly what the detective was doing; he was teasing John until he begged. Their recent experiences had shown that Sherlock liked both dominant and submissive roles, but he loved to hear John talk as they pleasured one another. John indulged his lover as he also enjoyed the reaction his voice coaxed from Sherlock; John lifted his head from the pillow and turned to look at the dark curls which bounced from his backside.

"Oh please, Sherlock, I – _gah_ – I need you. Please. I need to come," the doctor whined, his face blushing slightly with both shyness and lust.

Sherlock groaned deeply, the deep tone rumbling through his lips and over John's arsehole making the older man whine slightly, his body pressing closer to Sherlock's lips.

"Sherlock, fuck with your tongue. Oh god yes, just like that," John moaned, "stroke me too – _please._ "

The younger man relented, his fingers stroking the hardness between John's legs, feeling the precome dripping over his thumb as he stroked harder and faster, bringing John closer to his climax.

"Oh god yes, Sherlock, fuck," John swore, his head lowering back to the pillow as the sensations built inside his abdomen. "So close, so so close..."

Sherlock pulled away with a dark smile, his hands moving from John's body leaving the older man thrusting into thin air at the loss of Sherlock's fist.

"I need to do your front now," Sherlock suggested, grabbing the lotion again and squirting more into his hands, pushing John onto his back carefully before smearing the cold liquid over John's tight chest muscles.

"Sh-Sherlock! I was… so close!" John gasped, fighting the urge to take himself in hand.

"Well, you"ll enjoy it even more," Sherlock said with a grin, his fingers teasing the sore muscles to relax.

John closed his eyes; Sherlock's fingers felt amazing against his skin, and he eventually stopped thinking about various ways of strangling Sherlock for stopping when he was so close. Sherlock moved over his chest and stomach, along his ticklish ribs and down his shoulders, carefully stroking the sore shoulder where John's scar lay. Sherlock moved to John's legs, starting at his feet and moving up, his long callused fingers stroking the arch of John's feet and between his toes. He had never found John's hobbit-y feet sexy before, but being up close made him realise how beautiful John was from head to toe, Sherlock thought for a moment before pulling his lips closer to John's feet, kissing and licking along the sole before taking the big toe into his mouth and sucking softly, suckling on the strange texture.

"What in God's name…" John asked looking down quizzically at Sherlock, sucking and licking his digit.

"An experiment," Sherlock replied before moving his hands to John's strong calves, up his knobbly kneecaps and then to the soft and hairy skin on the man's thighs. John groaned and lifted his hips as Sherlock got closer to his crotch, the very tip of his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of John's balls before moving away teasingly causing John to growl in his throat.

Sherlock rubbed more lotion into his hands before taking John's balls in his fingers, stroking and rolling them around in his large palms as John cooed and moaned above. Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's shaft, stroking the moisture along the skin before moving his hand away.

"Sherlock, please," John begged, his mind close to snapping with arousal.

Sherlock poured more lotion onto John's shaft before straddling the older man's hips, the cleft of his arse pressing against John's erection.

"S-Sherlock?" John stammered, his eyebrows lifting and his pupils blowing wide as he looked over his lover.

"I don't – I don't think I want to go all the way yet," Sherlock said, his eyes cast down to John's stomach. "But I want to see what this feels like."

John nodded and allowed Sherlock to move slightly, the feeling of wet heat covered John's cock as Sherlock rolled his hips experimentally, his cock bouncing with each thrust forward against the skin of John.

The two men gasped together; Sherlock grabbed John's hands and held them above the older man's head as they lustfully ground against one another, their lips meeting in a passionate and frenzied kiss as Sherlock sped up his hips, flicking and stroking his sensitive hole against the hardness beneath.

John pulled his head away; looking at Sherlock's half lidded eyes. "I'm close."

Sherlock pulled a hand away from John and wrapped it around his own cock, fisting it roughly as he rocked, bringing himself closer to climax. The two men keened and gasped as John exploded in pleasure, his wetness splashing against Sherlock's perineum and his own lower body. Sherlock groaned as he felt the ropes of come hit his skin before his own orgasm washed over him, and he climaxed over his fist and John's lower belly, their sperm mixing together as Sherlock's hips juddered to a stop.

"God, " John whispered, his eyes closed.

"Yeah," Sherlock agreed, looking down at the softening pink prick between his legs, small drips of come still leaking onto John's skin.

John grabbed Sherlock's arse tightly and pulled him forward for a long kiss, before giving a playful spank and telling Sherlock to get in the shower. The men jumped in the bathtub together, giving one another a slow hand job before John got dressed and left for work, leaving Sherlock with a laptop and a lot of spare time to plan the last hurdle of their relationship. Their first time together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sherlock brought up a webpage; looking at the contents, he memorised the information before opening the next tab. He stored the information he'd collected away and begun planning John's surprise; he had to admit, he was shocked that their relationship had moved on from being strictly friends. His inability to orgasm had created the greatest opportunity for closeness between the two men and Sherlock was thankful that the embarrassing topic had been brought up.**

The detective thought over the numerous nights of pleasure he had received from John; the doctor had dragged more pleasurable sensations from Sherlock's body than the man had known existed and his blood began to pool in his cock, making it half erect just from remembering the feel of John's skin on his, the smell of John's sweat and ejaculate hanging in the heat of the bedroom making his head spin. He cupped his crotch before mentally chastising himself; he had an evening to plan.

The detective had never been romantic; he'd never needed to be and he didn't agree with most of the logic behind the gestures but John himself seemed more open to romance. Sherlock made a note of various websites and forums which explained the best way to plan a romantic night in. He planned a shopping list and dressed quickly; calling to Mrs Hudson and telling her that he would be going out. An hour and a half later he returned with a selection of large bags, rushing upstairs and noticing that the time was 12:35, giving him lots of time before John was due home from work.

* * *

 

Dr Watson sat at his desk in the surgery, his mind wandering to Sherlock's talented tongue and fingers, the way they felt around his cock and balls and how amazing the night before was. The doctor sighed as he remembered the feeling of Sherlock's tongue fucking his hole until he clamped down and exploded onto the sheets beneath them. John's British reserve made itself known and the guilt began playing in his mind again as it screamed _I'm not gay,_ but John had to admit it to himself… His feelings for Sherlock had moved from simple infatuation and lust to something stronger, something more powerful and scary and John wondered if he might tell Sherlock he loved him; his thoughts were interrupted as Mrs Williams walked in with an infected sore on her leg, making all sexy thoughts leave John's head immediately.

* * *

 

Sherlock dashed around the flat in a mad rush; he placed the bags on the sofa and began ticking off his mental list of things to do. The first was simple enough and required the toilet, followed by a thorough clean which made the detective wince at the idea but he shook away the distaste and began.

Sometime later, a much fresher Sherlock Holmes left the bathroom. He walked back into the living room and began unpacking the bags, taking them into the various locations: the lube and condoms went in the bedroom, the special fruity Cider which was John's favourite was placed in the fridge away from Sherlock's experiments. The food Sherlock had bought was put away and then finally Sherlock took out the new black, very tight underwear he had just spent a small fortune on and put them on the bed for later. His eyes twinkled as he imagined John's reaction to him, but instead decided to watch pornography and get some ideas of what he was in for; he knew the basics, what went where and such but he wanted ideas for positions and things they could try.

John clucked his tongue motherly at the upset teen opposite him. The girl had come in with her mother who was busy ranting about her daughter's issues which caused John to ask the mother to leave in a firm yet friendly tone. The girl relaxed visibly without her mother and John spoke calmly to the young lady about periods and puberty, explaining how to deal with pain and mess without embarrassment. The young girl had smiled and thanked the doctor thoughtfully, her face and eyes brighter than when she had come in. The women left the room and John smiled; this is why he came into medicine. John imagined how difficult it would be to raise a child, imagining Sherlock experimenting with a baby on his knee, or watching Sherlock roll his eyes whenever John tried to be firm or Sherlock… _Wait… am I imagining me and Sherlock raising a family? Jesus!_ His brain screamed and he shook the thoughts away with a tingling sense of excitement in his belly.

* * *

 

Sherlock looked at the clock; 15:30, only an hour until John came home. He rushed himself into the shower with his razor, cleaning himself thoroughly once again before climbing out of the water and wrapping himself in a towel. He dressed in the tight black boxer shorts followed by the black trousers he knew John loved, teamed with the purple shirt which hugged his chest so perfectly. He styled his hair messily before spraying the expensive cologne he had stolen from Mycroft's house, smiling at the memory of Mycroft's face contorting in anger whenever he smelled that Sherlock was wearing the scent.

Sherlock checked over the bedroom a final time; he had made the bed freshly, and the scent of Jasmine was wafting through the air from the fabric conditioner as he redressed the bed. He put on the radio, playing a soft jazz channel and clicked on the lamp before walking backwards out of the room, closing the door behind him and moving to lay on the sofa. He stretched himself out on the comfortable couch before picking up a book and lazily flicking through it; he read until he heard John come through the door when Sherlock looked over and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi… You look nice," John said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Do I? I haven't done anything special," Sherlock replied.

"Maybe you just always look nice," John smiled in reply, walking to the kitchen and putting on the kettle.

"I thought I'd cook tonight," Sherlock shouted, watching John peek his head back around the doorway.

"Why… You're not experimenting on me again are you?" John asked worriedly.

"No. Just thought it would be nice," Sherlock said tensely, his brain shouting _honestly! I drugged him ONCE and he won't stop going on about it._

"Well okay, if that's what you want," John said. "I'll grab a shower unless you need a hand?"

"No no, you go shower. Won't be long." Sherlock smiled and got up, walking to the kitchen to prepare the food.

It wasn't anything special. Sherlock cooked steak with vegetables which John wolfed down with a bottle of expensive wine which Sherlock had bought especially. John noticed that Sherlock wasn't eating as heartily as himself but left it alone; Sherlock drank the wine and giggled sweetly as the happy buzz rushed through his brain.

Sherlock pulled out the ready prepared chocolate profiteroles from the fridge, watching John's mouth open in shock. Sherlock smiled and placed them in the centre of the table, bringing spoons and forks along with bowls. The men devoured the sweet treat with Sherlock munching his way through thanks to his sweet tooth; John sat back stuffed in his chair and rubbed his pronounced tummy. "That was lovely. Thank you," he smiled, before sitting forward and kissing his lover on the side of the mouth softly.

"I… I got some videos too. I don't know if you want to watch them but they're there… or we could watch TV," Sherlock suggested, his hand gesturing towards the living room.

John cricked his eyebrow again; suspicion was lurking in his mind and he wasn't sure what Sherlock was planning. Thankfully Sherlock couldn't play his new emotions cool and blurted out the first question which came to his mind.

"John, are you my boyfriend?"

John choked slightly on the wine he had begun to drink, his chest clenching until he remembered to breathe and looked over at the blushing and nervous man-child in front of him.

"Do you want me to be?"

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded, his curls bouncing with every movement.

"Then I would say yes… Yes, I'm your boyfriend," John laughed, his hand grabbing Sherlock's. "But I don't want to rush this. It feels _different_ to my other relationships… I don't want to ruin it by going public."

"By different do you mean you love me?" Sherlock asked deadpan, causing John to do his best fish impression. "Oh John, it's really quite obvious."

The deductions took less than a minute but John was still open-mouthed when Sherlock finished. John had only realised today that he was in love with the detective, how could Sherlock know before him? The older man started giggling and blushed deeply before looking into those amazing blue eyes.

"Yes. I'm completely in love with you," John admitted.

Sherlock smiled, his genuine _for John_ smile before grabbing John and pulling him to his feet, pulling him into the living room where the two of them snuggled on the sofa together.

Picking DVD's to watch wasn't an easy task; John's PTSD meant that certain words or sounds could set off his anxiety so Sherlock had researched his choices. He decided on a horror film which didn't include guns or fighting and settled down to watch the film with his boyfriend. John sat straight with his back against the arm, one leg lying on the sofa whilst the other was bent at the knee and his foot rested on the floor.

Sherlock climbed into the space between his legs so his spine rubbed against John's crotch and front. His nice smelling cologne and shampoo caused John's senses to tingle awake; the doctor stroked his fingers through the curls and smiled as Sherlock cooed at the touch.

Sherlock could feel his body tingling with need, his cock starting to thicken against the fabric of his trousers due to being so close to John. The two men began to lazily kiss, their tongues stroking across one another softly as John ran his hands through the dark curls and over Sherlock's neck and throat. The younger man made a gorgeous purring noise which caused John to smile into the kiss and begin to press his body closer to his boyfriend; the two men continued snogging like teenagers on the small sofa, Sherlock's body pressed tightly against John's cock.

"I need..." Sherlock stuttered, his eyes glassy. "I need to taste you."

John nodded happily and lifted his hips to allow Sherlock to unzip his trousers and pull out his cock. Sherlock keened as his fingers tightened around the throbbing erection which strained from the flies. Sherlock moved his lips to the tip, pressing tiny butterfly kisses along the head and down over the sensitive glans watching as John gripped the sofa tightly, his knuckles turning white as Sherlock teased his prick with chaste pecks down to the bush of blond curls. The torment seemed endless but eventually, Sherlock showed John mercy and slowly pressed his lips over the head of John's cock, tasting the salty precome hitting his tongue as Sherlock ran his tongue around the exposed head, moving his lips inch by inch down John's shaft until the tip pressed against his throat. He had never been able to take John fully, so instead wrapped his hand around the remaining skin of John's cock, stroking it in time with his lips. John arched his back and thrust into Sherlock's warm mouth, his groans echoing around the flat; Sherlock smiled and continued his blowjob by looking up, maintaining eye contact with John as he sucked and slurped sloppily, his pink swollen lips quirking into a smile as he watched John's head fall back heavily onto the sofa, his hips moving in and out of Sherlock's mouth involuntarily.

"Sherlock..." John moaned, giving Sherlock warning of his impending orgasm.

Sherlock pulled away, a hand wiping his sloppy lips as he moved up to kiss John passionately, their tongues running against one another as they sighed and whimpered into one another’s mouths.

"John… can we go to bed?" Sherlock asked, his stomach knotting with worry.

John nodded and Sherlock lifted himself off the sofa, reaching out to take John's hand and pull him into the bedroom. The pair walked slowly as Sherlock pulled John in for another deep kiss; Sherlock walked backwards until his back hit the bedroom door and he opened it, almost falling through the threshold.

"Wait! Wait!" Sherlock shouted, surprising John into staying still as the taller man rushed around the bed and grabbed matches, lighting candles around the room. The room was now dark with just the dim light of the lamp and the candles which cast a romantic hue around the room.

"Wow, Sherlock," John smiled, his cheeks blushing slightly.

"I just… I wanted you to know I love you and I'm ready… if you are," Sherlock stammered, his voice sounding small.

John crossed the room in large paces, grabbing the back of Sherlock's head for a fiery kiss. The two men took their time, stripping slowly to the relaxing jazz in the background and rutting their erections against one another as they continued kissing between items of clothing. Eventually Sherlock stood in his underwear whilst John was naked.

"I love those pants," John purred, his fingers digging into the waistband. "If I didn't want you naked, I'd make you keep them on."

Sherlock shivered with lust at John's deep voice, as the men climbed onto the bed and began caressing one another, relaxing each other with soft strokes. Both men were extremely erect, their cocks dripping between their bodies as they kissed; John took Sherlock into his mouth first, bringing the younger man closer to climax, his hand and mouth working in talented unison until Sherlock whimpered and groaned on the bed, his fingers gripping the bedding tightly. John teased a little more, his tongue licking away the musky precome before pulling away and allowing Sherlock to kiss down his body, his own skilful tongue and hand bringing John perilously close to exploding again before they even got around to sex. Thankfully the urge passed and the men continued their exploration of one another's bodies.

John urged Sherlock onto all fours, his hands pulling apart the cheeks before noticing the now completely shaved area. John laughed slightly and Sherlock responded with his own giggle which made the doctor groan and lean forward, his tongue making contact with the now hairless skin of Sherlock's perineum and arse. It didn't take John long to have Sherlock writhing and pushing back against John's tongue, his whimpers muffled into the pillow as John caressed and stroked the heavy shaft hanging between the detective's legs.

The lingering scent of arousal and sweat hung heavily in the warm bedroom as John continued to lick and probe Sherlock's sweet spot. His hand wrapped around Sherlock's shaft, coming away wet with leaking precome which steadily dropped into a puddle on the bedding beneath the pair. John's own cock was leaking and aching from the tease of being so close to orgasm earlier; he moved a hand to tug on his cock to attempt to stop the frustration rushing through his veins.

Sherlock groaned deeply as he watched from the frame between his legs, John's hand wrapping around his own cock was almost enough to tip Sherlock over the edge but the younger man fought the urge, breathing deeply as John's tongue pressed inside his tight hole over and over, fucking him with the slick muscle. Sherlock's head was spinning with pleasure and he felt like he was floating in treacle as the older man ran a thumb around the bundle of nerves of his frenulum.

"Please, John," Sherlock gasped, his hair frizzed and stuck to his face with sweat. "Need you."

"How do you want to do it?" John asked carefully, unsure whether he was prepared to be penetrated by Sherlock's large cock.

"I thought... well, as you have more experience I thought that you could top and I'll bottom… but as for positions. I wanted to ride you," Sherlock blushed.

John groaned and watched as his cock twitched, dangerously close to coming. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes tight before nodding.

"I'll need to prepare you first, lay on your back."

Sherlock followed John's instructions and lay flat; he opened the bedside drawer and passed out the new lube and condoms which he had specially bought that afternoon, watching as John raised an eyebrow. "This lube must have cost a fortune."

"Worth it, for my first time," Sherlock smiled. "Anyway, I charged it to Mycroft's card."

John let out a loud bark of laughter before covering his mouth with his hand. "New rule: We don't bring Mycroft into the bedroom ever again."

Sherlock nodded in agreement as he watched John unscrew the lid and smear the expensive lube over his fingers, before pressing for the puckered hole no longer hidden by Sherlock's hair. John found it quickly and pressed a finger inside; Sherlock gasped and gripped the bed as the sensations of John pressing on his prostate shuddered through his body, creating a slow burn in the pit of his stomach.

"John, please," Sherlock begged, his eyes wide and glazed at the pleasure coursing through his veins.

"So needy," the doctor laughed, pressing a second finger inside and stroking the nerves again, listening to Sherlock keen and groan deeply, his cock twitching as a bead of precome dripped over the tip of his foreskin to roll down onto his stomach.

"Need you. Please, John," Sherlock added, gasping loudly as his heartbeat rushed in his ears.

John added a third digit, scissoring his fingers to ensure the younger man was stretched as much as possible without pain. Sherlock passed the doctor a condom and watched him tear it open with his teeth, using one hand to roll the thin plastic over his red and angry looking erection, his other hand still buried deep inside Sherlock.

John removed his fingers softly and kissed Sherlock deeply, telling the young man to change his position so that John lay on his back with Sherlock straddling him. Long legs pressed against the comfortable mattress as Sherlock attempted to calm his breathing and position himself over John's erection.

"Wait!" John said, grabbing the lube and pouring a generous amount over his covered cock. "Slowly."

Sherlock nodded, his hips moving up so he could grab the long shaft and place it against his virgin hole. The two men made eye contact, holding one another's gaze as Sherlock slowly pressed the tip of John inside him for the first time.

Both men gasped at the sensations; it had been a long time since John had had anal sex and he had forgotten the amazing tightness around his cock, whereas Sherlock was overwhelmed by the feelings rushing through his nerves and veins. A slight burning mixed with intense pleasure as John filled him up inch by inch, stretching him in places where nobody had ever been before.

"J-John," Sherlock panicked, feeling like he would never be able to take the full length, but John merely gripped his lover's hand and held it tightly, their fingers entwined over John's heartbeat, the steady thrum rhythm relaxing Sherlock and helping him conquer his anxiety.

He rolled his hips experimentally, pressing down further, bearing down on the intrusion of John's seemingly unending cock until John was fully sheathed inside his heat. The two men stayed still, the feelings threatening to send both over the edge prematurely. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John passionately until the urge to come passed; John groaned and moved his free hand to Sherlock's hip, holding tightly as Sherlock began to move in a shaky and juddering rhythm, his hips circling before lifting off and pressing back down, feeling John's blunt tip press over his prostate again and again. Sherlock's eyes rolled back in his head as he flicked his hips again and again, the sensations fizzing around his body like a million bees buzzing in his veins.

"God, John," Sherlock mumbled, his hips grinding on John's cock as the pair moved together, bringing themselves closer to the edge. Sherlock experimentally gripped John's cock with his muscles, feeling the large cock pressing against his walls.

John had clamped his eyes closed at the sensation of Sherlock's tight insides milking him. He managed to open them and was met with Sherlock's piercing gaze, the younger man's bright blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight as they rocked together. John moved his hand from Sherlock's hip and stroked Sherlock's stomach softly, his fingers pressing against the soft skin of his stomach and chest before tweaking and rolling Sherlock's erect nipples in his thick fingers. Hearing Sherlock gasp and moan, John continued his thrusts whilst stroking Sherlock's nipples. Sherlock whimpered and rocked his hips, faster and harder, feeling the tip of John touching his prostate sending another spurt of precome leaking from his now red tip. John grabbed the back of Sherlock's head and brought him down for a passionate and lustful kiss, their lips and teeth crashing against one another as their tongues danced. Sherlock's thrusts were changing to shaky movements; his hands grabbed at John's shoulders and his fingernails dug into the soft skin, leaving crescent shaped marks which were bound to bruise. John's breath hitched and he groaned deeply in Sherlock's mouth, waiting for the inevitable break of Sherlock's climax.

"JOHN!" Sherlock cried, his fingers clutching John's own as his orgasm crashed over him, his cock exploding despite being completely untouched; the ripple of pleasure lasted longer than any of his other orgasms and a series of groans and whimpers were ripped from his throat as thick spurts covered John's stomach and chest. Sherlock saw stars behind his eyelids and his body felt like it was floating aimlessly above the bed as his arse clenched tightly around John's cock and made the doctor whimper as his own orgasm washed over him.

"Sherlock, fuck, I love you," John whispered as he filled the condom with his orgasm, his eyes closing and his toes curling with the force of his climax. Sherlock was still shaking above him, his arms barely able to keep the younger man upright as his hips shuddered and shook with the afterglow of his peak.

John pulled the younger man down onto his chest, kissing Sherlock's dry lips before pulling himself out of Sherlock's used and sore hole as gently as possible. He helped the younger man lie on his back on the bed, watching as Sherlock continued to shudder. John ran to the bathroom and wet a towel, bringing it back to the bedroom and cleaning Sherlock's stomach and chest as well as his own. Tying the condom up, he placed it in the bin, blew out the still burning candles and turned off the radio before climbing alongside Sherlock on the bed, taking the detective into his strong arms and holding Sherlock until he came back from his orgasmic trance, blinking unseeing at John's smiling face.

"God," Sherlock whispered, his voice cracked.

"Yeah. Pretty incredible," John agreed, kissing Sherlock's head and pulling the cover over Sherlock's shoulder. "Sleep now, love."

Sherlock snorted slightly with a laugh. "Love? Have you gone gooey on me, Dr Watson?"

John laughed happily and snuggled down beside his lover and boyfriend, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep where everything was good in the world now he had Sherlock beside him in every way.

The two men were asleep when Sherlock's text tone went off. Sherlock hit at the mobile and let it fall to the floor unread.

**I am happy for you and Dr Watson, but please don't use my card in sex shops in future - MH**


	9. Chapter 9

**John sighed as Sherlock swept gracefully into the living room and fell onto the sofa with a huff of exhaled breath; John looked at his newspaper and smiled.**

"Everything alright?"

"Bored," Sherlock sighed. "Why are all the criminals in London so dull, John?"

"No idea," John replied. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

Sherlock sat up quickly, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "Let's make it more exciting."

* * *

 

Moments later, John was lying on his back on their bed, his trousers, pants and shirt pooled on the floor as Sherlock slicked up his fingers and slowly stretched John's insides, working him open until he was wide enough for the small buzzing remote control toy _(the same toy which had caused him to mess his trousers at the crime scene)_. John groaned deeply as Sherlock pressed his digits against his sensitive prostate and then forced the small toy inside, stroking John's cock quickly and efficiently until the doctor tensed, his body locking tightly and then he was coming in long thick ropes over his bared stomach. Sherlock moved to John's lips and kissed him passionately before jumping from the bed and beginning to get ready for their walk.

"Come on, John!" Sherlock shouted excitedly, pulling on his coat and scarf before John had even got to his feet.

John chuckled dryly and pulled on his trousers, dressing quickly before grabbing his coat and following Sherlock down the stairs.

* * *

 

"Was I supposed to bring a picnic?" John asked in confusion, watching Sherlock swinging the half-full bag of bread by his side.

"Thought we could feed the ducks," Sherlock smiled, entwining his fingers into John's and squeezing securely.

"That would be nice," John smiled, squeezing back and feeling a bubble of happiness and contentment in his stomach.

The pair continued walking until they entered Regents Park; Sherlock began to unlace his fingers but John held him firmly with a smile. He didn't care if they were caught by paparazzi, he was happy and content with their relationship.

They stood at the duck lake, throwing bread to the greedy birds whilst Sherlock excitedly pointed out the different varieties and their Latin names; John grinned and nodded, attempting to follow the long _isses_ and _usses_ which Sherlock was throwing his way.

John shuffled uncomfortably as the small plastic toy pressed against his prostate, causing him to attempt to find a new position where he could find a small amount of relief or friction. Sherlock noticed and clicked a button on the remote control in his pocket, smiling devilishly as John hissed and tightened his grip on Sherlock's long fingers. "Git."

The pair stood under the shelter of a large oak tree as it softly began to rain, the patter of raindrops sounding brilliant above them in the canopy. Sherlock bent forward and pressed a lingering kiss to John's lips, licking his lower lip slightly as he pulled away. "I love you."

"Love you too," John replied with a smile, before pulling his collar up over his neck. "We should pop to Tesco on the way home, we need something for dinner."

Sherlock groaned knowing how tedious shopping was and how angry John became when he misbehaved through utter boredom, but he smiled when he realised he had the remote control to keep him entertained. He happily agreed and pulled up his collar against the rain and held John's hand tighter as they stepped out into the downpour.

* * *

 

Sherlock had released John's hand as they entered the supermarket to allow the doctor to push the small trolley. John focussed his attention on the essentials, knowing that Sherlock was bound to become difficult and childlike once his boredom set in. He was leaning forward to reach for the milk when he felt the first low buzz of the toy inside him; he almost dropped the carton but righted himself immediately.

John remembered Sherlock's reaction to being tormented at the crime scene; he had enjoyed sending jolts of pleasurable sensations through the detective as he worked, tormenting him as Anderson stood over him. He instantly regretted the decision to allow Sherlock to have control of the remote.

John turned back and put the milk in the trolley before walking along and picking up other essentials, watching Sherlock from the corner of his eye. Sherlock was at the fish counter arguing with the Fishmonger who refused to give him a dozen fish eyes for an experiment; Sherlock huffed in anger and flounced away, his coat trailing behind him as he muttered a string of insults to the white-clothed man.

"He's only going to throw them away anyway! I told him it was for an experiment! The imbecile," Sherlock mumbled to John.

"What did you say?" John asked nervously.

"That I had an experiment to do with eyeballs and how quickly they dissolved in acid. I told him my usual stockist couldn't fill my order and fish eyes would do," Sherlock added, seemingly unaware of how insane it sounded.

"Yeah… you sound like a madman," John laughed, putting a hand on Sherlock's lower back. "Let's move on."

Sherlock allowed himself to be pushed forward with a sneer towards the fishmonger; he soon forgot about the slight when John asked his opinion on a can of soup.

* * *

 

Sherlock was bored; almost dangerously so. He considered knocking over the stacks of tins just to be able to deduce the people who worked in the shop but he knew John would be angry so he refrained, instead putting his hand in his pocket and pressing buttons at random and watching John's face tense and his hands tighten on the bar of the trolley.

"God," John hissed, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock smiled sweetly and began picking up sweets and biscuits and putting them in the trolley, stacking them high before grabbing more and continuing his wall of confectionary.

"No more," John warned, "it's not healthy."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pressed down on the remote for a prolonged moment; watching John stop his movements and grip the bar with a whimper.

They had reached the frozen aisle when John's insides exploded with a flurry of vibrations and thrums. He groaned low and his knees almost buckled as he gripped the edge of the large freezer until his knuckles went white. Sherlock had his back turned and was seemingly lost in thought.

"Sherl- _oooh..."_ John moaned as another wave of pleasure rushed through him and his cock twitched dangerously close to coming in his pants.

Another long and harsh buzz flooded his insides and he gripped the freezer tighter, his legs becoming weak as Sherlock brought him to the edge again and again.

"Sherlock, please," John whispered, glad that the supermarket aisle was deserted.

"John, it's..." Sherlock started, "it's stuck."

John grimaced and looked over at the detective. "What's stuck?"

Sherlock blushed crimson. "My hand, in my pocket. My watch is caught and I can't get my hand out and every time I move, it sets the remote off."

"Christ," John groaned, his head low as he imagined the media circus finding him about to orgasm by the frozen peas.

"Try. Slowly." John hissed as another jolt rushed through him, sending more precome flooding into his cotton underwear.

Sherlock bit his lip and attempted to move his hand an inch at a time, wiggling his wrist softly to dislodge his watch.

It was too much for John; the constant pressure on his prostate mixed with the view of Sherlock's flushed and worried face took him over the edge. Streams of come flooded his underwear as he shuddered through a prostate milked orgasm which left him empty but unsatisfied, the urge to rub his cock still bouncing around his brain.

Sherlock stopped and looked at his panting lover; eyes blown, face flushed, bent slightly forward as if to hide the evidence of – _oh._

"Sorry, John," Sherlock whispered before reaching his other hand around to his wrist and quickly unclipping the watch strap, allowing his hand to slip out of the pocket without setting the remote off.

"Genius, my arse," John muttered, staring at Sherlock before smiling and giggling at the absurd situation. "Let's get this paid for. We need to get home."

Sherlock nodded and followed John, checking for leaks or the tell-tale scent of ejaculate; thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed and the men were able to pay for their goods and carry their bags onto the main road before hailing a cab and beginning their journey back home.

"Okay, we're one all. I don't think we should use this outside anymore," John smiled, watching as Sherlock frowned. "Well… special occasions only."

  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longish chapter. Lots of edging and multiple orgasms! Yummy!

**Sherlock was sweating; not a pleasant sheen of sweat either but an all-encompassing flow of salty liquid which soaked through the bedding and stained the mattress beneath his spine. His arms had been tied to the headboard with soft ropes and despite hours of constant trying, the detective couldn't loosen himself from his bonds. His hair was a tangled and soaking mess which clung to his forehead and dripped beads of sweat painfully into his eyes.**

_He absolutely loved it._

John was sitting on his heels by his feet with a smug smile on his face at how quiet Sherlock had become. At the start of their _encounter,_ Sherlock had been in charge, barking orders or complaining that the ropes felt slightly too tight or not quite tight enough. John had broken him down through hours of constant edging and stimulation; bringing him almost to climax before slowing his ministrations or stopping altogether and walking out of the room, stifling a giggle in the kitchen as he heard Sherlock whimper and curse under his breath. John had stopped finding it so funny when Sherlock began listing the numerous places where he could store John's murdered corpse if the doctor didn't stop this torture.

They were now three hours into their session; Sherlock's cock was bright red and twitching in need against his pale stomach, his chest rising and falling with each gasping breath and his eyes bright but darker than John had ever seen. John had begun their session fully clothed, keeping himself in control and forcing Sherlock to strip and bare himself completely to John's wants, whilst allowing Sherlock none of the same opportunities. It was blissful.

John had allowed his mind to wander and was brought back by a soft whine; Sherlock was desperately trying to rock his hips up and down to force the small plug inside him to press against his prostate but finding no leverage. The detective whined again, a pathetic and needy sound before looking up at John.

"Please, John. I'll beg. I need to come, please."

John smiled and ran his fingers through Sherlock's matted hair, soothing the tall git softly before beginning his sexual abuse all over again, his hands quickly cupping and rubbing around the tip in small circles, polishing against Sherlock's exposed and overly sensitive cock head and counting each turn.

"One… two... three… Come on, Sherlock, count with me or we keep going, four… five… six..."

Sherlock whimpered and closed his eyes tightly; he had never believed counting to be so difficult but it seemed impossible; shakily, he began counting along. "S-Six… seven… eight..."

"Good boy," John smiled, rubbing his dry hands over the copious precome flowing from Sherlock's tip until he reached twenty, and then released the twitching and dripping cock back onto Sherlock's stomach.

John snapped out of his dominant role momentarily to stroke Sherlock's clammy cheek, whispering, "We can stop anytime, you know the safeword." He watched as Sherlock shook his head, refusing to be beaten by his transport's needs.

John squared his shoulders and gripped Sherlock's nipple tightly, pulling on the sensitive nub roughly until Sherlock squirmed with a mixture of pleasure and pain, hissing deeply. John smiled and climbed from the bed, rooting around at the bottom of his wardrobe before returning with a slip of dark blue silk; wrapping it around his hands he felt for weakness and then walked to the head of the bed.

"Let's play a game," John smiled, holding up the fabric to Sherlock's nervous gaze.

"What game?" Sherlock asked.

"Let's play deductions," John grinned, moving the fabric to cover Sherlock's eyes before tying it securely yet comfortably at the back of Sherlock's head.

* * *

 

Sherlock groaned again; he was beginning to tire of the constant ache in his bollocks which seemed to have been tight to his body for hours now; the throbbing erection which bobbed against his stomach ached too and his lips felt parched despite John allowing him sips of water whenever he needed them. Sherlock rolled his shoulders as much as possible whilst tied and sighed. "John, come back."

John had gone to drink a cup of tea, leaving Sherlock tied up and blindfolded on their bed. He picked up his cup and walked back to the bedroom and placed his materials by the bed, before running his hand across Sherlock's long torso and down to his hips to stroke harshly at the turgid erection which twitched in his hand.

"Ungg," Sherlock croaked, shocked at the hard touches of his lover.

"See how long it takes you to identify each of these things. If you get it right, you get to come. If you get it wrong, you have to take another twenty polishes. Agreed?" John asked softly.

"Yes, yes just get on with it," Sherlock added tensely.

* * *

 

John reached for his first subject; it was the tail feather from a peacock, the colourful patterns reflecting in the bedside lamp as John trailed it over his own hand first before lowering it to Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock bucked towards the sensation before relaxing back to the mattress, allowing John to stroke the feather up and down Sherlock's exposed skin.

The touch was so unbelievably soft and gentle that Sherlock bet that he wouldn't have been able to feel it if he wasn't so completely over sensitive. He bucked his hips away from the sensation before realising that he needed to guess the object to have a chance of being able to come; he attempted to focus his dwindling attention to the way the object felt again his skin: _soft, light, ticklish yet flexible as John bends the object into the small area between thigh and crotch_. Sherlock couldn't help but giggle and moan as the object was caressed against the head of his cock, pulled away covered in stringy precome. Sherlock tightened his hold on the bonds holding him to the bed and lifted his head, attempting to see under the blindfold causing John to slap him harshly on the thigh for cheating.

"Can you guess?" John asked, his face inches away from Sherlock's, every syllable a breathy groan into the shell of Sherlock's ear.

"Feather, guessing peacock or similarly large fowl," Sherlock gasped as the feather tickled against his sensitive bollocks and then up to trace over his nipples.

"Correct," John smiled and put the feather down on the floor beside the bed, lifting out his next teasing toy.

"Y-You said I could come," Sherlock gasped.

"I did, I just didn't say when," John teased, his voice moving away from Sherlock's head and suddenly Sherlock felt the warmth and wetness of John's mouth taking him inside. Sherlock bucked his hips up and hissed, desperate to orgasm.

John licked and sucked at the exposed cockhead, tasting the stringy and slightly bitter precome flooding his mouth as Sherlock desperately tried to bring himself off without John's permission, causing the doctor to smile and flick at the younger man's bollocks.

"Enough of that," John smiled, picking up his next object. "Can you tell what this is?"

Sherlock sighed as the object began its journey at his hands and wrists; the soft sensations sweeping over his pulse points before moving down his arms and into the hairy and sweaty armpit causing Sherlock to giggle childishly as he was tickled. He curled his toes and held himself steady as John began to slide the object up and down Sherlock's torso, circling his nipples with the slightly bristly toy.

 _Feels a lot like the feather,_ Sherlock's brain helpfully explained. _More firm and scratchy._

John used the object to stroke across Sherlock's cockhead, probing the slit and gathering the wetness before spreading it across his heated shaft. Sherlock groaned with the intense sensation and the terrible tease of the situation.

"Brush, paintbrush, fan style, either size 18mm or 20mm, I can't be sure," Sherlock gasped, his deductions coming quickly yet strained.

"Good, that's two for two," John smiled, allowing the paintbrush to fall to the floor with a soft thud. "I'm impressed."

Sherlock groaned deeply, desperation now causing him to consider safe wording but refusing to allow himself be beaten.

"We have two more, do you want to do them all now? Or wait a while?" John asked softly, holding the bottle of water carefully to Sherlock's lips and allowing the younger man to take thankful sips of the liquid.

"Now… need to come," Sherlock moaned, drips of water dribbling down his chin and over his long and graceful neck as John rummaged around on the bedside table.

Sherlock startled as John this time began at his feet, pouring a liquid over his exposed flesh. The liquid is warm but quickly cools on his skin and then moves to run down onto the bedding beneath Sherlock's body,

"What?—" Sherlock started before being cut off by the liquid splashing over his cock then being eagerly slurped by John's greedy lips. The mixture of John's mouth and the warm moisture caused Sherlock's body to go into shutdown, and he momentarily stopped breathing as bliss washed over his body. He felt so _close, just one more suck…_

John stopped and brought the liquid further up to Sherlock's stomach, pouring it into Sherlock's navel with an audible chuckle as he watched the liquid spill out of the small delve and down to the bedding.

"TEA! IT'S TEA!" Sherlock shouted. "Earl Grey, no sugar, from your blue mug."

"Good, Sherlock, good," John soothed. "Last one."

* * *

 

Sherlock was sure that he had gone insane; why else would he be chained to a bed, desperately horny and covered with tea? John had left for a moment apparently to pick up the last object and Sherlock shook his head, the blindfold now soaked to his skin with his constant sweating. He felt too hot, like his blood had been replaced with lava or boiling oil; he would ask John to open the window when he returned.

John returned quickly and stroked his hand over the clammy skin resting on the bed, soothing Sherlock with soft words of endearment. Sherlock's heart thrummed with happiness at the fantastic man who was currently torturing him mercilessly, and he wondered if he had completely cracked.

Sherlock had begun to ask John to open the window before his words were stopped mid-sentence by John wrapping his lips around Sherlock's hardened nipples; the freezing sensations caused Sherlock to scream out in a mixture of intense pain and pleasure; his overly sensitive and on edge body unable to take the feelings for more than a few seconds.

John pulled away and stroked his hand along Sherlock's torso before flicking the frozen nipples roughly, smiling as Sherlock whimpered desperately.

"Ice… Ice, John… it's ice," Sherlock cried, knowing what was to come.

John pressed his cold lips to the tip of Sherlock's cock, watching as Sherlock bucked against the ties forcing him against the mattress, his lips mumbling _nonononononono_ with each sweep of John's frozen tongue against the boiling skin of his cock. Sherlock imagined that it may have at least felt a little pleasant, cooling his sore and tight prick but the sensation was nothing but painful. Sherlock arched himself from the mattress in a bid to escape the torturous object pressed against his skin, but it was a useless gesture as the bindings held him steady, drawing out the feelings longer than Sherlock had known was humanly possible. John moved his lips away, looking up at Sherlock to gauge his feelings but finding the detective open mouthed and panting, desperate for release. The doctor noticed the small rivulets of water snaking their way down the detective's shaft before pooling into a puddle at his pubic hair, which John quickly licked away before spitting the ice cubes into the teacup on the bedside table.

"You got them all right, well done," John smiled, kissing Sherlock deeply, his cold tongue dancing with Sherlock's hot one.

"Please, please let me come, John," Sherlock begged.

John gave in and pulled the blindfold from Sherlock's eyes before wrapping his hand around Sherlock's cock, starting a quick and harsh rhythm which had the detective bucking his hips quickly, fucking himself further into John's fist.

"Close," Sherlock groaned deeply, his eyes shut tightly as his climax built and built.

"Come, Sherlock," John growled, watching Sherlock's eyes widen and then roll back as he began to orgasm, hours of pent up arousal and lust exploding over his stomach, chest and neck in long, thick squirts as a scream of absolute bliss roared from Sherlock's throat. Sherlock grabbed for the headboard and anchored himself to the wood as his orgasm kept going, rope after rope of white come covering him until he was completely drenched with ejaculate and sweat.

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at John sweetly, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glazed as the afterglow of the intense orgasm washed over him in waves. "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" John asked with a smile. "You still have three orgasms to go."

Sherlock shook his head and cringed at the thought of John stroking his sensitive prick; he began to object as John wrapped his lips around Sherlock's cockhead and licked, tasting the bitter few drops which remained and ensuring that Sherlock remained hard.

"I'm going to make you come again and again, and then again," John whispered, watching Sherlock close his eyes tightly, "and you're going to be so sore tomorrow that you won't be able to walk."

Sherlock whimpered pathetically as John began sucking him off again; using every trick he had discovered to drive Sherlock wild. He swallowed the entire shaft down his throat and swallowed, allowing the fluttering sensation to massage Sherlock's already sensitive shaft.

Sherlock continued whimpering until the familiar sensations of orgasm arose again, tingling in his spine and then radiating outwards until Sherlock was choking out a brief warning and allowing John to remove his mouth before another few spurts were released onto his stomach. John smiled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's tip as he pulled his hands away.

He had almost forgotten the plug inside of him until John flicked the plastic bottom, causing it to press deliciously against his prostate and making Sherlock gasp; John seemed to understand and used his two fingers to circle the puffy hole which was stretched around the purple toy, listening to Sherlock groan caused John's own cock to twitch with need and lust. He promised himself it wouldn't be much longer and lowered his fingers to rest on the base of the plug, pressing it in circles to massage Sherlock's sensitive spot. Sherlock groaned deeply as flashes of colours ran behind his eyelids and he gripped his bindings again.

"I think you can do it again," John insisted, grabbing for the lube on the bedside table and slicking up his hands before stroking them up and down Sherlock's length. "Just two more to go."

Sherlock's heart thudded against his chest as John's fingers stroked and caressed his aching skin; without the lube he was sure that it would have chafed but the lube caused John's hands to slip softly over the abused skin and all too soon he was close again, the familiar churning in his balls returning and causing Sherlock to clench his toes tightly.

"Jooooohn," Sherlock screamed as he arched his back and a pitiful dribble of come was released from his sore and overly sensitive prick. "Mercy, please!"

John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's lips and the men snogged for a while, enjoying the sensations of togetherness and mutual love before John pulled away.

"You have one left, and I need to come too," he whispered. "I think you can do it."

"John, I can't, it's too much," Sherlock cried, tears threatening to spill from his watery blue eyes.

"I think you can, you're so amazing and wonderful. If anybody can do it, it's Sherlock fucking Holmes," John smiled, watching Sherlock blush before nodding his head.

John removed the small plug inside Sherlock and used his still lubed fingers to check that he was fully open; finding that he needed no further preparation, John grabbed Sherlock's legs and threw them over his shoulders and pressed his cock against the fluttering muscle of Sherlock's arse.

"I love you," John smiled, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's calf near his face. Sherlock opened his eyes and met the doctor's gaze before smiling. "I love you, too."

John sheathed himself inside Sherlock with one fluid movement, the tightness and warmth of Sherlock still a surprise regardless of how many times they had slept together. John held himself still, his cock twitching for more friction but his brain refusing to move until Sherlock nodded his acceptance. Sherlock breathed out slowly and then nodded, allowing John to begin to thrust.

"Fuck… oh fuck," John swore, his hips moving furiously as he pounded into Sherlock, watching the younger man's cock bounce against his stomach with each pounding thrust.

Sherlock's mouth gaped open as he realised at once that he was close again; his brain tried to process the mathematical probability of a thirty six year old man coming four times in less than an hour but all Sherlock could hear was static noise. His brain short-circuited and quieted as his fourth orgasm approached; he rolled his hips and thrust back, fucking himself against John's cock before he stiffened and opened his mouth with a silent scream.

Nothing happened, he was completely dry but the sensations were blissful. His cock still twitched and his hole pulsed around John, gripping him tightly and milking the doctor desperately but his cock remained dry, unable or unwilling to produce any more semen to be expelled.

John watched in amazement as Sherlock had his first ever dry orgasm before he too was coming; pulsing hot streams of come filled Sherlock's fluttering hole as John growled and cursed. His hips pressed tightly against Sherlock's body as he panted his way through an intense orgasm, desperately clinging to Sherlock's legs as he jerked and spilled inside his lover.

Sherlock's legs trembled in John's grip and the doctor softly lowered them to the bed before pulling himself out of Sherlock and watching as a thin trickle of white escaped the muscled ring before Sherlock could clench himself tight. John stood on shaky legs and picked up the baby wipes which he had left on the floor before opening them; softly he began to clean and bathe Sherlock with the wet wipes, knowing that the detective would be unable to move for the remainder of the evening. He quickly untied Sherlock's arms and checked over to ensure that no damage had been done; Sherlock shrugged his shoulders to allow the sensations to come back before grabbing at John tightly and pulling him in for a long and slow kiss.

"Amazing," Sherlock mumbled. "Incredible."

"Yes, you are," John smiled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's nose.

John pulled apart and began to clean the bed; attempting to strip the bedding whilst a lanky boneless man refused to move was difficult but with regular rolling and playful bum slapping, John managed to change the bedding and climb in beside a clingy Sherlock who laid his head against John's chest, listening to the steady _thrum thrum thrum_ of John's heart whilst wrapping his long limbs around the doctor's smaller ones. John had never expected Sherlock to be a cuddler but was happily surprised each time the detective squeezed himself tightly against John's body. All too soon, the two lovers fell into a deep and dreamless sleep as an inky black sky swallowed London in its quiet embrace.

  



	11. Chapter 11

**John snarled slightly as he watched Sherlock move around the recently deceased murder victim; the detective was in full deduction mode and moved gracefully around the corpse, lifting arms and looking at the sleeves. Sherlock seemingly found something interesting as he pulled out his tools from his pocket and set about collecting something which John couldn't see.**

Greg wandered over towards John and began making small talk, inviting the doctor out for a pint in the week which John gladly accepted; it had been too long since he had made time to socialise with the DI and he missed his company and the way that John could be _normal_ for an evening. Greg and NSY knew about the change in Sherlock and John's relationship and accepted it without fear or awkwardness, for which John was eternally grateful.

John attempted to maintain a conversation with his friend but found his eyes being drawn back to Sherlock. The younger man was crouched over, his long neck disappearing into the purple shirt which clung to the man's body like a second skin; John swallowed deeply and attempted to pull his eyes away from Sherlock's tight muscles, wishing he could grab the detective and throw him to the floor, stripping him naked there and then in front of the yard whilst he licked and sucked his way down Sherlock's entire body. John noticed that Sherlock had caught his gaze and lifted an eyebrow in confusion before John had shaken his head and walked over to meet him.

"Come with me."

Sherlock looked at his boyfriend and then down to the victim lying by his feet. "I'm on a case, John."

"I know, I just need a quick word," John smiled, holding his hand out for Sherlock to take.

"This is most irregular," Sherlock whined, asking for a moment alone with John which Greg allowed with a click of his fingers.

John watched the police walk away before pressing his lips against Sherlock's tightly, deepening the kiss almost immediately and plundering his tongue into Sherlock's warmth. Sherlock gasped and hesitated for a moment before allowing himself to react and kiss John back, pressing their hips together as blissful sensations ran down his spine.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," John swore, nibbling at Sherlock's neck. "You're wearing the shirt."

Sherlock smiled and chuckled slightly. "I always wore this shirt before our _relationship_ and it never got this reaction… sadly."

"That was because I couldn't touch you then," John sighed and pressed kisses against Sherlock's earlobe. "I can't wait to get you home, strip you and make you come."

Sherlock cleared his throat and pushed his cock closer to John's own, allowing them to rub together slightly through the layers of fabric as John continued, "In fact, I might go home now and wank over you. The thought of you in that shirt and nothing else really gets me horny. I want to stain your shirt with both our come."

"We can't do that if I'm not there," Sherlock panted, his face flushed, "and I need to finish up here," he said looking down at the dead body a few feet away.

"Finish what you're doing and then come home. I'll wait for you there," John smiled, kissing Sherlock softly again.

Sherlock nodded and pressed his hand inside his trousers to realign his cock so it wasn't so prominent in the fabric.

John did the same before turning and walking towards Greg with a smile; he said goodbye before walking towards the main road to hail a cab back home.

* * *

 

Sherlock pulled himself together enough to focus on the task at hand; his brain was fuzzy and distracted which caused him to be angry at himself and John for making him feel that way. John should have realised by now that whenever Sherlock was _on a case_ it strictly meant _we can't have sex until I've wrapped up said case,_ which Sherlock found reasonable. He huffed out a breath and intended to have a very strongly worded discussion with John regarding acceptable behaviour in public and on crime scenes. He continued looking at the crime scene and then explained his findings to Lestrade, becoming frustrated when the DI insisted on being slow-witted and making him explain obvious findings.

The detective was almost buzzing with tension as he gracefully strode from the crime scene to hail a cab. He opened his mobile and checked for texts or missed calls from Mycroft; thankfully finding none he pushed the phone into his pocket and gave the address to the cabbie before sitting in awkward, furious silence.

* * *

 

The cab pulled up as John was smoothing down the trousers to ensure they fell perfectly straight. Pulling on his cap he checked himself in the mirror before standing at attention beside his chair in the living room.

Sherlock paid the fare and a tip; he closed the car door and ensured the door knocker on the Baker Street entrance was off centre before letting himself into the door and striding up the stairs two at a time.

"John?! John, we need to talk," Sherlock insisted as he opened the door to the flat and walked into the living room. "When I'm on a scene you can't ju— Oh God."

John stood rigid as he looked over Sherlock's rapidly flushing face; he had taken his old dress uniform from his wardrobe and was stood to attention, his spine straight and his eyes focussed on Sherlock as he entered.

"J- John..." Sherlock stammered, his mouth and throat suddenly parched.

"Undress. Now," John spoke, his voice low and steady. His captain voice.

Sherlock wasn't aware that he was even following the order until he looked down and found himself unbuttoning his shirt and toeing off his shoes. He stilled his hand as he noticed John lick his lips and say softly, "Keep the shirt on. The rest off."

Sherlock nodded and his nimble fingers quickly worked his clothing onto a pile on the floor until he was standing naked except his shirt which was still buttoned up. His cock pressed against the fabric and caused it to tent out obscenely, causing Sherlock to blush and cringe in surprising shyness.

"You're beautiful," John smiled, moving until he was behind Sherlock, pulling the man's spine to rest against his chest. "I just love everything about you, _soldier,"_ he emphasised the word watching wordless as Sherlock shuddered and twitched at the sound. His cock bobbed desperately for friction and release in the chilly air of the flat.

"On your knees," John insisted, moving to Sherlock's front, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his already thick and aroused cock which dripped moisture from the tip, falling onto the floor in stringy blobs.

Sherlock moved to sit on his knees, his bare arse resting on his feet as he attempted to wet his parched throat. He gazed longingly at the red tip of Johns cock with a whimper. "Please..."

John smiled and ran a finger over the prominent cheekbones on Sherlock's flushed face. "Do you want to suck my cock? Is that what you want, Holmes?"

The doctor loved to make Sherlock talk during sex despite Sherlock's shyness in the situation. John had always been a very vocal lover, and hearing Sherlock beg and whimper was almost enough to send him over the edge without much stimulation. John watched as Sherlock nodded his head quickly, his hair bobbing with each movement as he licked his lips. "Yes, sir."

A shiver of arousal ran through John's spine as he groaned and stroked himself, still fully dressed in his uniform but his cock exposed from the fabric. "Open wide."

Sherlock threw back his head and opened his mouth wide, sticking out his tongue far enough that it would look comical if it wasn't so damn arousing. John groaned and pressed his tip into the hot, wet mouth of his lover, enjoying the sensations of Sherlock's tongue rubbing along the bottom of his shaft. John didn't press too far, focusing on the tip of his cock and the perfect feeling of Sherlock gently tonguing his slit whilst keeping his mouth open wide for John to use as he saw fit.

John tangled his fingers into Sherlock's hair tightly and thrust himself inside the warmth of his mouth, gasping as Sherlock swallowed him before gagging and pulling away. John stroked Sherlock's hair with each thrust, whispering endearments into the deep curls; feeling his orgasm building, he thrust harder and deeper, worrying momentarily when Sherlock gagged and his eyes leaked tears down his cheeks. John was about to stop and apologise, but Sherlock met his gaze and groaned low, taking him deep again and flicking his tongue over the leaking slit.

The doctor felt his knees becoming weak and he growled a warning of his impending climax as he pulled out of Sherlock's mouth and ordered Sherlock to open his mouth and put his head back. Tugging his cock a final few times, he released a huge load of come, watching through lidded eyes as his ropes covered Sherlock's lips and face before dripping down to stain the purple shirt which was still wrapped around Sherlock's chest and arms. Sherlock whimpered as he licked away the musky come he could reach, whilst John gathered his remaining wits and allowed himself to stand upright, back to his Captain Watson persona.

"Touch yourself."

Sherlock whined low and grabbed for his twitching and throbbing cock, already a dark pink and leaking copiously onto the shirt tails which framed his prick. His eyes closed tightly and a wanton groan escaped his lips as he finally began to stroke himself quickly and efficiently, adding a twist to the head as his hips jerked and thrust into the tight circle of his fist. Sweat dripped down his neck and prickled between his shoulder blades as he fucked his hand, harder, faster, the sloppy sounds of slick skin bouncing around the room as he whimpered and writhed in front of John's feet. The very picture of desperation.

"come for me, Sherlock. Cover your shirt in your come, mix it with mine," John ordered, his lust blown eyes focussing on Sherlock's blissful expression as he finally toppled over the edge of his orgasm and began to unleash his long ropes of white come over his chest and the purple shirt; Sherlock reached his orgasm with a silent scream, his head thrown back, exposing his long, pale neck to John's gaze as he stroked himself through his climax, his hips juddering and shaking through the blissful climatic moments. John grabbed Sherlock's hair and pulled him in for a fiery kiss, their teeth cracking together as their tongues ran against one another, swallowing each other's moans and groans as Sherlock finally finished his orgasm.

John pulled away, looking down at the wrecked shape of sweaty detective kneeling beneath him.

"What did we need to talk about?" John asked with a smile.

Sherlock merely licked his lips and shook his head, he hadn't the foggiest idea.


End file.
